


Ex

by Love_of_fandoms



Series: Ex [1]
Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Amelia is aro ace, BAMF OFC, Being Your Own Editor Sucks, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Dark Humor, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunk Snuggles, Drunken Shenanigans, Español | Spanish, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Character Death, Faked Suicide, Family Bonding, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, For the Win, Frantically googles how to tag, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, I mean y'all saw the movie, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Language, Loss, Movie Night, Multilingual Character, Musicians, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not So Platonic Cuddling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Platonic Cuddling, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, SO MUCH LANGUAGE, Self-Insert, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Undercover, Undercover as Married, can be a reader insert, eventually, kind of, major fluff, no yn, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_of_fandoms/pseuds/Love_of_fandoms
Summary: The ghosts weren't One's idea originally, they were his little sibling's, Ex. Ex is 15 years younger than One and was raised by him, and when they were 18 they committed suicide... or so everyone believed.Years passed and eventually Ex came and pitched their idea of the ghosts to One, and thus the ghosts were born.[This story is pretty personal to me just because Ex is literally me, my preferred name is Ex and I'm non binary, and most of Ex's physical characteristics are based off of mine]
Relationships: Four | Billy (6 Underground) & Original Character(s), Four | Billy (6 Underground)/Original Character(s), Four | Billy (6 Underground)/Reader, One/Seven | Blaine (6 Underground), Three | Javier/Two | Camille (6 Underground), if you squint
Series: Ex [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781149
Kudos: 23





	1. I: Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

> So this first chapter jumps around in time a lot, so if it's confusing I apologize...

“Text me when you get there, alright?” my older brother urged me as he pulled away from a tight hug, giving me a soft smile.

“Okay,” I nodded, turning and slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder. I quickly hopped down the steps to the driveway and onto my bike before I cast a longing gaze at my home and my brother standing in the doorway. Sighing, I started it up and headed to the docks. 

This trip had all been planned months before, so I had no trouble getting on the ferry, flashing my ticket to a man in a bright blue uniform at the gate and then riding up onto the platform where all the cars were kept for the ride. With a sigh, I left my keys hanging off the handle of my motorcycle and grabbed my duffle, going to walk around. My beautiful motorcycle...

* * *

The ferry had departed around 20 minutes earlier, and I was leaning against the railing, just staring in the general direction of the Cape, not that any land was visible at that point. I took a couple deep breaths, looked around, and jumped.

* * *

“What do you mean they’re dead?” [redacted] demanded, glaring at the two policemen who had shown up at his door as if this was all just an elaborate prank.

“She jumped off the ferry headed to Nantucket,” one of the men said, and [redacted] rounded on him with teeth bared.

“ _They_ , they jumped off,” he corrected, beginning to pace as a hand flew to his hair, gripping at the roots and pulling as an attempt to ground himself. “You-” he paused, swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat. “You’re sure?” he asked, and both men nodded.

“We can show you the footage,” one said, and [redacted] did a double take, this time swallowing down tears that were surfacing.

“There’s footage?”

So they brought him down to the station and showed him the footage, which very clearly showed Ex staring out at the water for a few moments, turning and staring straight at the camera, and then jumping over the edge.

[Redacted] didn’t have time to talk about whatever will Ex had left ( _what kind of 18 year old leaves a fucking will?_ ), instead he stormed out of the station once the footage was done playing and drove the couple of miles to the neighborhood community center where he and Ex had spent much of their childhood.

Mr. DeFonso, a large, older African American man who had been both [redacted] and Ex’s mentor, greeted [redacted] when he walked in, a look of shock on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pleasantly surprised at his protegé’s presence. 

“Ex is dead,” [redacted] said bluntly, eyes not focusing on any one thing and face devoid of expression.

“What?” Mr. DeFonso gasped. “But that’s-I saw them two days ago, that’s-” he cut himself off with a sniffle, turning his face away from [redacted] as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“They came here two days ago?” [redacted] asked, the news surprising him, and Mr. DeFonso nodded.

“They filled in for Jackson for the self defense class,” he said, and [redacted] nodded, turning and heading towards the locker rooms, to swept up in his own grief to be cognisant of how rude and unfeeling he was being toward Mr. DeFonso. [Redacted] pulled a chain necklace with a key dangling from it out from under his shirt, hands shaking as he entered the locker room. They had done this when Ex was much younger, leaving messages for each other in their shared locker, and [redacted] took a shaky breath as he unlocked it.

A paper drifted out of the mostly empty locker when he opened it, and [redacted] picked it up with a sob when he saw his name at the top.

_[Redacted],_

_There’s not much else I can say except I’m sorry._

_Well, there’s a lot to say, too much to say that I can’t even begin to explain on paper, but I think you have an idea of most of it._

_I guess I should tell you, don’t blame yourself, you raised me, basically becoming a dad at age 15, and I will be forever grateful for that, and I will forever be proud of you for the name you’ve made for yourself. None of this had anything to do with you, and I need you to know that._

_I’m sorry, I love you,_

_Ex_

_(PS. If you do blame yourself I’ll haunt your ass for eternity)_

[Redacted] let out a chuckle at the last line, and then a gasping sob as he held the letter, sinking to the ground and sitting against the lockers, just reading and rereading it. None of it had been real until this point, but reading this letter [redacted] felt an unimaginable pain blossom in his chest, a hole beginning to form where his heart had once held his little sibling.

Mr. DeFonso found him an hour later, crouching to sit on the floor with the distraught man, ignoring the ache in his knees as he did so.

“They’re gone,” [redacted] uttered, and Mr. DeFonso said nothing, just nodded and threw an arm around his shoulders.

* * *

I dove down into the water, the splash luckily not drawing any attention from those still on board the ferry, and swam a small distance away before surfacing for air. I was able to wiggle out of my jeans, revealing the wetsuit underneath, but I kept my hoodie on, well… I kept my brother’s hoodie on, for sentimental reasons. After just treading water for a moment and watching the ferry continue on without me, and with my motorcycle, I flipped my duffle bag around so it was on my front, unzipping it and pulling out an oxygen mask. I fitted the mask over my head and checked a compass that I had packed before continuing to swim, occasionally stopping to take sips from the water bottle in my duffle bag or munch on a bag of carrots I had packed, as well as check the compass to make sure I was still headed in the proper direction. It was easy to be turned around at sea, especially with no coastline in sight for the first couple miles.

I was thankful for the water, my tears being indiscernible amongst the salt water on my face, and by the time I reached the shore in Chatham 10 hours later, my tear ducts had completely dried up. I was mourning, I suppose. Though I knew I would still be able to check on my brother, I would never be able to return to my life, or to my motorcycle… 

About the motorcycle, I’m not that materialistic. My brother bought me that motorcycle for my fourteenth birthday, it was little more than a piece of scrap metal at the time, and worked with me for the next two years to fix it. It was unique, the only part remaining from the original bike being the body and handlebars. That motorcycle was my pride and joy, and I prayed that it would make it back to my brother, instead of ending up compounded somewhere or in the hands of somebody who noticed the keys dangling on the handle and stole it.

I huffed as I crawled up onto the rocky beach, flopping onto my back and just laying there for a couple minutes to catch my breath. I had been training for this swim for months, but this was still the first time I had actually swam for a whole 10 hours.

I didn’t allow myself to rest for long, I was on a schedule after all, and pulled myself up after a couple minute respite. I walked over to the bicycle I had placed there the week before, and was glad to see that the lock had not been broken. I sluggishly got on, still exhausted from my swim, and began pedaling the couple of miles to the Chatham airport. Honestly I was surprised my legs were still working at that point. 

Chatham Airport was no big operation, making it perfect, and I was luckily able to just walk right onto the airfield, security being pretty lax as plane owners kept their own keys on them. And if the security tapes were missing for the day… well, nobody would look into it too much.

I climbed onto the small private plane that I had purchased in cash about a month beforehand, those security tapes also mysteriously going missing, and took off towards the California desert.

And just like that, I became a ghost.

* * *

An abandoned airfield was a surprisingly good place to stay hidden. It was in the middle of the desert, and there were enough plane husks that I could dedicate one to all my tech and research, one to physical training, one to an armory, and one to a pseudo-bank, which was really just a bunch of filing cabinets full of cash. I still had plenty of others that could be living quarters, as well. The only real issue was water, but I soon fixed that with the digging of a couple of wells, though admittedly that took slightly longer than I expected, since I was only one person and could only do so much work in a day. Luckily, even in the desert, there was enough rainfall for the newly dug wells to sustain one person and have plenty left over in the case of more people, and I knew the water supply would just build over the years.

The first part of Operation Ghost had been completed, I was dead to the world, and the second part was underway.

I was extremely capable in hand to hand combat, luckily, as I had no one to train with, so mainly the physical part of my training was just keeping myself in shape and keeping my reflexes sharp. You’d be surprised how putting one of those tennis ball shooting machines on high and standing a bit away without a racket helps keep you quick. The other part of my training was familiarizing myself with various weapons that I may need, starting with pistols.

I had read books about it, but as many people will tell you, reading the theoretical will only get you so far, and eventually I actually had to shoot a gun. I started with a target about 5 meters away, and found that it wasn’t too difficult for me. My hands were pretty steady, and so my shots remained consistently on target the further away I placed it. I knew that wouldn’t be enough, so I started practicing by beginning facing away from the target and turning to shoot it, that way I could practice when I didn’t have a lot of time to aim.

It turns out that I was an alright shot.

* * *

It was my 19th birthday, and it had been around 4 months since I had ‘died’ and flown out to the airfield. I figured it was a good time to check on my brother. It was too early for me to return to my hometown, especially on my birthday, so I resigned myself to hacking the security feeds to both our home and the neighborhood community center. It was… difficult to watch, to say the least. The first thing he did was visit my grave, which wasn’t really much of a grave, I had requested a sapling be planted as my grave marker. There were no cameras around my tree, but I was able to track his phone as he went to my favorite bakery in Harvard Square and then drove out to my tree.

He stayed at my grave for a little over an hour, and then went to the community center. He and Mr. DeFonso spent most of the day just chilling by the basketball court, though my brother did join in for a couple games, and if I wasn’t crying before, I was sobbing when they brought him a cupcake with a single candle, as they had always done for us on our birthdays. He was no better, sobbing into Mr. DeFonso’s shoulder, and my heart cracked. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, watching him grieve me while I was still alive, but I still could never have been prepared for the pain that shot straight to my soul watching him cry over me.

The next day I saw that he had donated $2 billion collectively to different causes that had always been important to me, including different mental health organizations and programs that focused on equal access to education in developing countries. There was a bit more crying after that.

* * *

I soon found out that I absolutely _sucked_ with automated weapons. Their aim wasn’t reliable and the continuous kickback was strenuous in a way I was not at all prepared for.

Shotguns were a different story, though I wasn’t a fan of the small compartment size and having to manually reload each individual shell for most models.

* * *

For my 20th birthday I found that my brother spent it practically the same way, waking up and heading to my favorite pastry shop and then driving out to my tree, staying there for around an hour. He did make a pitstop this time on the way to the community center, and I was surprised to find that he was stopping by a flower shop. I would have expected that before he visited my grave… but I soon found out why when I turned to the community center security feed. The whole day was spent planting flowers and a vegetable garden just outside the building, and I couldn’t help but let out a sad laugh when I saw how much space they had set aside for carrots… Everyone had always joked that I was a rabbit, due to my uncanny adoration for the vegetable. Once my brother bought two bags of baby carrots, and came down the next morning to find they were completely gone… That was a good night for me… 

They brought out a cupcake once again, and I cried with my brother as everyone just sat around him in support.

* * *

It was that year that I became _heavily_ invested in learning how to snipe. I ended up spending way too much time on research, what factors to accomodate for the further away from your target you got and all that, but it ended up being worth it as I got better and better.

In between the research and practice, I began researching different options for ghosts. I knew I’d need varied skill sets, but I also needed people with strong moral compasses who would mesh well together, and it was surprising how difficult that was to find.

* * *

The next year there was a gas attack in Turgistan. It was horrendous, and I felt the urge to puke when I realized that Rovach had ordered the gassing of his own people. I was sickened further when I realized that my brother was in the city at the time of the attacks. I barely thought as I fired up a jet and flew to Turgistan, needing to see him for myself. It was easy for me to find the hospital he was staying at, and I was able to sneak onto his floor with a well put together custodial worker’s disguise. He had just gotten out of surgery, a piece of shrapnel had been lodged in his shoulder, and was on a bunch of painkillers as a result. He was hooked up to a respirator as well, since the doctors were unsure if he had inhaled any of the gas, and I couldn’t help but place a kiss on his forehead.

I jumped when his eyes snapped open.

“Ex?” he asked, and my eyes welled up with tears before I could stop them. “Am I-” I cut him off.

“No, you’re not,” I murmured, before turning and rushing out of the room. I stopped at the door, turning my head back to whisper: “I love you, so much,” before I sped out of the hall. I was quick to further blur the grainy security tapes, that way if he did any digging he’d probably believe he was hallucinating from all the drugs he was on.

After that incident I kept close tabs on him, and he almost gave me a heart attack when he booked tickets to a play in Paris that Rovach _just so happened_ to have tickets for as well. That caused me to do some digging, and I quickly realized how like minded we really were. Over the past couple of months he had been transferring a lot of money to random accounts and withdrawing even more at ATMs, and a quick peek into his search history told me that he had been looking into a small racing plane and a trip to New Mexico’s desert.

* * *

So I flew back to Chatham, making sure to keep my face as concealed as possible, and broke into my old room. Despite our home being a mansion with no corners cut on security, I had done plenty of the same action in high school, sneaking in and out of my room was of no difficulty to me. 

I gasped when I crawled through the window above my bed, seeing my room was the exact same as I had left it that day 4 years earlier. A fine layer of dust was beginning to cover everything, and I realized that it was likely my brother hadn’t even entered my room since my ‘death’.

With excellent timing, just as I had finished replacing the screen and closing the window, my elder brother could be heard pulling into the driveway. After a couple moments, I heard the front door swing open, and after I heard the _thud_ of him setting his bags down, I stomped on the floor. He began to walk somewhere, in the opposite direction of my room, and I stomped again. I heard his footsteps pause, probably because he heard me. I stomped again. Thudding footsteps were heard running towards my door, and they paused just outside it. After waiting for a moment without him opening the door, I stomped once more.

The door swung open, and before his face was even visible, I started to speak.

“You know, you could’ve at least hidden that porn magazine under my bed or something,” I said, referencing the magazine that I had accidentally left out that was now just sitting on the floor. The door slammed the rest of the way open, and I had to work very hard to keep my expression neutral as my brother’s enraged face came into view.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he screamed, pointing a pistol in my face. My eyes widened in shock, cursing myself for not acknowledging the probability that he would arm himself upon hearing someone in his house. “Who the FUCK ARE YOU, YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER?” I jumped off the bed, raising my hands towards him in a placating gesture.

“Woah, woah, it’s me,” I shouted, voice cracking slightly. “[Redacted], it’s me!” His grip tightened on the gun.

“No!” he growled, finger twitching towards the trigger. “My sibling died, they killed themselves, you are _not_ Ex,” I kept my body perfectly still as I tried to convince him.

“Hey! Hey! OKAY!” I shouted when he shook the gun slightly in warning. I frantically searched my brain for something that only the two of us would know. “You lost your virginity when you were 17 and I was 2 and I had a nightmare about Snow White and walked in on it!” I screamed the first thing that came to mind, and almost sagged in relief when his finger slowly moved off the trigger. His face was still twisted in anger though. “Our favorite movie to watch together was The Breakfast Club and we can both recite the entire thing!” I continued. “Your favorite TV show has always been Leave it to Beaver for some unknown reason despite how much I hate it, and how much you try to deny it!” I paused to think, trying to come up with something else only I would know. “I was the one who broke that $1 million couch but you said it was you because I had just turned 18 and was legally independent,”

He stared at me in shock for a couple of the most tense seconds in my life before chucking the gun on the bed. He glared at me for another couple seconds before rushing forward and yanking me into a hug.

“You’re an ass,” he muttered, voice thick with unshed tears, and I broke down, crying in ugly hiccups.

“I know,” I whispered back, arms gripping the back of his jacket tight, this being the most physical contact I had experienced since ‘dying’. It was fitting that the last person I touched was him, and it was a hug goodbye, and now he was the first person in 4 years that I was touching, and we were holding onto each other like our lives depended on it.

“Why?” he choked out, and I awkwardly shuffled to push him so he was sitting on the bed, sitting next to him and snuggling into his chest partially on his lap like we used to snuggle.

“Being dead makes my plan so much easier,” I said, and he huffed.

“But you’re not actually dead?” he astutely pointed out, his confusion etched onto his face.

“Exactly,” I smirked slightly. “But according to social media, government files, and everything else, I’m a ghost, so basically I’m untraceable.” I explained, and I felt his head tilt to look down at me.

“Why would you need to be untraceable?” he asked.

“So we can make some wrong things right,”

“Huh?”

“Rovach, we’re gonna take him down,” I said, and he pulled away slightly to stare at me in shock.

“That’s freaky,” he muttered, and I giggled.

“Great minds think alike?” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling me tighter to his chest once again and kissing my forehead.

A month later, his plane crashed in the desert, and his grave was planted next to my sapling. He had a sapling of his own now, and I had my brother back.


	2. II: A Glorious Clusterfuck

“Shit shit shit!” Three and I heard through the walkie-talkie.

“Get in the car!” Six’s voice came through. “Oh! She’s bleeding!” his voice wavered a bit, and I snickered even though I knew I probably shouldn’t.

“I’m aware,” Five deapanned back, and by how steady her voice was I could assume that Two was the one who was bleeding.

“Just drive!” Two spat out, her voice breathy.

“I’m gonna smoke these motherfuckers,” Six growled, and I giggled again.

“Tryhard,” I murmured, and Three shot me an amused look. A moment passed where we could only hear the revs of the engine, before Six piped up again.

“They’re shooting at us!” Two whimpered in pain. “Go go go!”

“We’re gonna need a hospital,” Five breathed.

“Getting a little tense in here!” One said, not bothering to acknowledge Five’s comment. That was why she was on the team after all, so we could all avoid hospitals.

A couple minutes passed, and like One said, things were tense. Eventually Two piped up, sounding much less in pain than before, though I wasn’t sure if I should attribute that to Five patching her up already or adrenaline kicking in.

“Where did those guys come from?” she demanded. “You said you were guarding the door!”

“I was covering the door!” One quickly defended himself. “You were shot through a window!” I gasped at this, and Three and I exchanged a look. I had assumed that Six meant bleeding out of a knife wound or something, but apparently Two had been shot.

“Such an amateur show!”

“Oh, an amateur show?!” One’s voice rose, and I rolled my eyes at the banter.

“Yeah!” Two shouted back.

“I know you got shot through the window-God that’s so bad!” I couldn’t tell through the walkie if One was concerned for Two or disgusted by the blood.

“What kind of lawyer has this many guards?” I heard Five’s voice pipe up.

“You’re definitely gonna die!”

“Smooth, One,” I mumbled at that comment. “Great job on the optimism,”

“And I don’t know a lawyer with friends in high places?! Maybe Mafia friends or something,”

“Mafia?!” Five’s incredulous voice piped up, and I threw my hands up in exasperation, grabbing the walkie.

“I fucking _told_ you guys he was mafia!” Three flinched as I shouted into it. “But did anybody believe me? No! You said that shit only happens in movies! Well guess what One! The Mafia is a real fucking thing!” I shouted, and Three tentatively placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Ex, honey, relax,” My head snapped to glare at him, and he flinched upon realizing that telling anyone to relax was never really a good idea. “Four, Two and I believed you but One shot you down,” he was quick to avert the blame, and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and hunching over where I was sitting in the driver’s seat with a pout.

“Ex, Three, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” One shouted, and I flinched before reaching over and shutting off our end of the mic. Three and I exchanged awkward glances for a moment before we burst out laughing, clearing some of the tension. Three pulled out his Italian phrasebook and I just sat back in the seat. I reached over and turned down the walkie when Five began operating on Two.

“Dov'è il bagno?” he read, repeating the phrase a couple times, and I giggled as he continued to say it in silly voices.

“Do you _actually_ need the bathroom right now?” I asked, and he shook his head with a grin.

“Do you know Italian?” he asked me, waving the book around.

“Some,” I replied with a nod. “I speak French, Portuguese, English, and Swedish,” I told him, and his eyebrows rose, probably surprised at the list.

“No Spanish?” he asked, and I shrugged.

“I can understand it, I just can’t speak it,” I answered, and he nodded.

“¿Uno lo entiende o lo habla? _(Does One understand or speak it?)_ ” Three asked after a moment, and I shook my head.

“Nope,” Three laughed jovially.

“Sólo te hablaré en español ahora! _(I’ll only speak to you in Spanish now)_ ” he declared, and I shrugged with a small smile.

“If you’d like,” I sighed. “Just know that I’m gonna be responding in English,” He nodded, reaching over and turning the walkie back up when we couldn’t really think of anything else to say. He pulled out his phone while I tuned back into whatever the four in the car were saying

I tilted my head when I heard what they were saying, head snapping over to shoot Three a questioning look.

“Did he just say she… squirted?” I asked, and Three snickered a little bit.

“Yeah we probably could have used a warm up mission,” I heard One acquiese after Five said something, and then Six piped up.

“Yeah that’s the problem, I’m just getting warmed up!” he said, and I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“He is _so_ dramatic,” I whined, and Three just laughed at me.

“¿Como suena ellae? _(How does ellae sound?)_ ” he asked, and I raised my eyebrows at him questioningly.

“What?”

“Un pronombre género neutral, _(A gender neutral pronoun)_ ” he explained, and I had to look away for a moment as moved tears stung my eyes. “Ex?” he prompted, and I swung around and flung my arms around him, ignoring how he jumped in surprise.

“You’re the best,” I said, staying hugging him for a moment before pulling away, and he just smiled at me, ruffling my hair much to my chagrin.

“Obviamente, chica, _(Obviously, girl)_ ” he winked. I rolled my eyes, and we sunk back into a comfortable silence, occasionally laughing or rolling our eyes at what the rest of the team were saying. Eventually Three grabbed the walkie, calling to check in. “Buongiorno uno,”

“Yeah, hey, shit’s gone…” One trailed off, obviously not knowing how to explain how much things had gone to shit. “We’re super fucked,” he finally said, and Three shot me a teasing look.

“Well I could probably point you to il bagno,” he teased, and I giggled. One, however, obviously didn’t get the joke.

“Whatever, Four needs an uber!”

“Way ahead of you, papi,” he responded, and I grabbed the walkie.

“Tell him to get his ass over here, then,” I said, and assumed by the lack of response I got that he was on his way. Barely thirty seconds after I said that, a thunk was heard on the roof of the van, and Three stuck his head out the passenger window.

“Buongiorno, quattro!” he greeted, and Four smacked the van, shouting.

“Go, go, go!” he shouted, and I quickly switched the van into drive and sped out of the quaint little alleyway Three and I had chosen to stake out in. I started to drive towards our rendezvous point, still giggling at what One and Six were saying in their banter.

As I turned into a little roundabout with a fountain in the middle, One’s panicked voice sounded through the walkie.

“Not the David! Not the David not the David!” he shouted, and I realized they were in an art museum.

“Are you guys in a fucking-” I cut myself off when I heard Six.

“Is David the one with the really small…” he trailed off. “Yeah,”

“Six, dear,” I piped up, gesturing for Three to hold the walkie close to me so I could be heard. “Really not the time to be criticizing a statue’s dick size,” I said, and smiled slightly as I heard huffs of laughter from both Three and Four. I swerved, doing a U turn and going back toward the Academy of Florence Gallery, gasping when I saw Six’s Green car burst through the gates. I waited before following from a distance, grunting in annoyance when I saw two suburbans speeding through the streets.

“Three,” I prompted.

“Si,” he was on it, holding the walkie up to his mouth. “You’ve got two black suburbans coming your way,” he warned, and I turned my head slightly when I heard a gun cock, raising an eyebrow when I saw Four, who had slid into the small barely there middle seat, prepping a launcher.

“Six, fake ‘em out, I’m coming to you,” he said, climbing over Three and grabbing his skateboard from under the seat.

“Wait wh-” before I could even ask, he had opened the door and rolled down a hill next to us. “I’ll just assume he knows what he’s doing,” I huffed, and Three snickered. I circled the area where the suburbans and our group were, waiting for Six to start driving again. My eyes widened when I saw Four jump off his skateboard and blow up a suburban, the two crashing into each other.

“You got a superhero on the squad!” Six gasped, and I giggled as he sped away, pulling up to Four.

“I can’t even argue with that,” I laughed as Three scooched closer to me to leave room for Four. Four shot me a smirk and my eyes darted back to the road as I felt my cheeks heat up. Slamming my foot on the gas, I sped after Six. 

They had gone into a construction site, and I parked on one of the lower levels, knowing there wasn’t really anything I could do.

“I can’t see!” The three of us exchanged worried glances at Six’s panicked voice, and I quickly grabbed Three’s phone, pulling up the tracking software we had on all the walkies.

“Keep that up,” I told him, putting the van into drive again and speeding towards their location. Three dutifully held the phone in my sight, and I kept glancing between it and where I was going.

I gasped as I pulled up to the car, a large I beam was through the windshield and into the driver’s seat. I swung around, and Four scrambled to the back to swing the doors of the van open. Everyone climbed in, and I vaguely heard Four utter “where is he?” before a gasp. The doors closed and I only took a second to glance back before driving away. Six hadn’t made it. A tear found its way down my cheek, and Three leaned closer to me, but I shook my head.

“Let’s just… get to the boat,” the boat where we had been camping out in preparation for this mission.

* * *

That evening, Three and One went back for the body, coming back with Six wrapped in a tarp, and we maneuvered the barge out onto the water before flinging his body off.

“Here’s a toast, to a kid I liked,” Three rose his beer bottle, and Two did a double take.

“Are you crying?” She asked him, but he didn’t answer.

“We didn’t even know his name,” I cringed, the only people who knew Six’s name were One and I.

“We don’t know any names,” Two countered.

“What was his name?” Three asked, and I opened my mouth to tell him, but One cut me off.

“It doesn’t matter,” my head snapped over to glare at him. “He was a good man,” he sank down to sit on the floor with a groan, taking his sunglasses off and looking around. “I thought I managed the risk, I’m sorry,” he said, and I sighed, sinking down to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged me off.

“Did he have a family?” Five asked.

“I think you’re looking at it,” Two answered “All of us,” One stood up so fast that I startled and fell back on my butt.

“We’re not a family,” I flinched, glad that I had already been crying as another tear snuck its way out of my eye. “Not the Cleavers,”

“What?” Three asked, and One spun back around to look at everyone incredulously. I just rolled my eyes.

“The Cleavers,” he reiterated. “Ward, June?” everyone shook their heads. “Leave it to Beaver?”

“Leave it to Beaver?” Two repeated, and I snickered at the confused looks on everyone’s faces.

“Jerry Mathers?”

“No,”

“Tony Dow?”

“No,”

“Barbara Billingsley, Hugh Beaumont?”

“Never heard of it,”

“No?” he looked so disappointed. “Nobody watches _Nick at Nite_?”

“The French don’t watch shit like that,” Two said, and I just started laughing.

“Millennials, French people,” he sighed, crouching down. “Look, just grab the head,” We all crouched around Six’s body, awkwardly lifting it.

“What does this mean?” Four asked before grunting with the effort of lifting Six.

“It means,” One grunted, his voice getting tight with exertion. “We find a Seven,” he said, and Six’s body hit the water with a _splash_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Spanish thing, that is true of me as well, I can understand it when it is spoken to me or when I am reading, however I can't speak it, so the Spanish you will see could be wrong since I'm using google translate.


	3. III: 7?

“Ex!” Three called as he walked into the main husk, where all our computers were. I hummed, glancing up from my screen and raising my eyebrows in question. “¿Dónde está mi arma? _(Where is my gun?)_ ” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“Which one?” I countered.

“La que tuve en Italia! _(The one I had in Italy!)_ ” he clarified, and I giggled.

“That narrows it down from maybe 10 to like 3,” I said. “You looking for the pistol, the launcher Four used, or the auto?” I asked, and Three chuckled.

“Me olvidé de los, _(I forgot about those)_ ” he said. “Mi pistola, _(My pistol)_ ”

“Right where you left it when we got back, bud,” I giggled, pointing to a nearby table where he had slammed his pistol down when we got back from Italy.

 _“Gracias,(Thanks)”_ he smiled at me, grabbing his gun and heading towards the shooting range. Four awkwardly shuffled by him on his way out, shooting me a charming smirk as he leaned against the table I was sitting at.

“He found his pistol?” he asked conversationally, and I giggled.

“Glad he was looking for that and not the launcher you stole?” I shot back, and he bit his lip, looking embarrassed despite the fact that we both knew he wasn’t.

“You noticed that, huh?” I rolled my eyes playfully.

“The fact that Three had room in his suitcase for that ridiculous fur coat that he’ll probably _never_ need clued me in,” I explained, and he raised an eyebrow at me in confusion. “His suitcases barely closed when we left,” Four nodded, leaning closer and glancing at my computer screen.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked as I blushed at his proximity, and I quickly changed tabs, not wanting him to see the name of our potential Seven. I didn’t particularly care, but One would throw a fit.

“Research,” I said, and he nodded, leaning back up. I switched back tabs, an intensity in my eyes as I looked at the transcript of a call between a sniper and command.

I had found our Seven.

* * *

Later that day, I sat with One, showing him my screen.

“He’s not a driver,” he raised his brows, and I shrugged.

“I’ll be our driver,” I said, and One’s gaze narrowed. “You know I’m a great driver,” I pressed, and he heaved out a sigh.

“I know that,” he soothed. “I just-”

“No favoritism,” I cut him off, and his head snapped up. That’s what I said every time he didn’t want me to do something with the team. As my older brother, I understood his want to protect me, but nobody knew about our relation to each other, so he couldn’t show favoritism. He glared at me, but nodded.

“I guess I’m headed to DC,” he said, and I nodded. “All the info you need should be on your laptop,” I said, and he stood and strode out of the room, saying nothing else. I stayed where I was until he was out of sight, then I was up and grabbing a projector. 

I quickly moved to one of the empty husks we had, setting up the projector facing a relatively clean wall, and then went to my husk to grab all the blankets and pillows I could carry. I went back and forth a couple of times until I was satisfied, then called a team meeting once I heard the engines of my plane start up.

The other Five ghosts came quick enough to our main husk.

“What’s going on?” Five was quick to ask, and I grinned.

“Follow me,” I led them to the husk where I had the projector set up.

“Is that pizza?” Four asked, sniffing the air, and I grinned as I pushed aside the curtain, hearing the series of gasps at the sight of the projector displaying the menu screen of my _The Breakfast Club_ DVD and the 10 boxes of pizza I had ordered and picked up in the nearest town.

“What?” Two asked, her voice breathy and I could tell she was holding back a laugh.

“We’re having a movie night!” I declared, throwing my hands up and grinning at them. Five tilted her head at me.

“What happened to not getting too close?” she challenged, and I pouted, my arms slowly coming down as I crossed them over my chest.

“Is that how you want to live?”

“No,” almost all of them responded immediately, and my grin returned.

“Then let me deal with One,” I said, plopping down on a pile of pillows. “We can be as much of a family as we fucking want,” Three and Five grinned, Four laughed, and Two had a small smirk on her face as they all joined me on the pillows. 

We all grabbed pieces of the pizza and I pressed play on the movie, grinning as the opening quote came on the screen. I scooched closer to Five, laying my head on her lap as I hummed along to _Don’t You Forget About Me_. She giggled, stroking her hand through my hair. 

I could purr with how nice it felt, and we were mostly silent as we watched the movie.

When they went in the back of the library to smoke a joint with Bender, Three spoke up.

“Which one did you guys feel like in high school?” he asked.

“Allison,” I said with absolutely no hesitation, and 5 glanced at me with raised eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yep,”

“Well I felt like Brian,” she said, and it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

“Wait what?” I asked, shooting off her lap to stare at her. “No way!”

“Yes way,” she countered, and I just blinked in shock.

“I was totally Bender,” Three said, and I giggled.

“That one isn’t much of a shocker,” he shot me a fake hurt look. “What? It isn’t!”

“You could at least pretend to be surprised,” he grumbled, and Four, Five and I laughed at him. I looked over at Two, and she smiled shyly, an expression which looked odd on her face.

“Claire,” she said, and three “WHAT?”s echoed in the husk from Three, Five, and I.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “I was the classic popular bitch,” I raised my eyebrows.

“Honestly,” I sighed. “I’m glad you grew up,” I laughed, and she glared at me for a second before joining me. I turned to Four. “What about you?” he licked his lips, glancing away.

“I didn’t,” he said simply.

“What?” Five asked.

“I’ve never seen this movie,” he said, and Three and I both gasped in shock, our eyes widening.

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he glanced over at me, and I pouted, slightly disappointed that he had never watched _The Breakfast Club_ before that night. “But it’s a good movie,” he rushed out, leaning back and taking a bite of pizza as his eyes snapped back to the screen. “Really good,” he muffled around the pizza in his mouth. I giggled, rolling my eyes and turning back to the movie.

* * *

The rest of the night had gone without a hitch, and most of us had ended up falling asleep on the pillows in front of the projector as the credits played. I had woken up the following morning across Five and Four’s laps, Four’s upper body bent in half over me. If I hadn’t screamed in surprise, it would’ve been pretty cute.

The next day, everyone was doing their own things around the airfield, and I was in my husk working on a project I had started before we left for Italy.

“Motherfucker!” I shouted out a curse when I pinched my finger between one of the tuning knobs.

“Ex!” Four shouted, running in. “Are you alright?” I jumped in surprise, jumping and dropping the neck of the guitar I had been building.

“Eep!” I squeaked in response, jumping up and down since the neck fell on my foot. “Yep,” I gritted out, and he briskly walked up to me, grabbing my shoulders and leading me to sit on my workbench.

“You sure?” he scanned me, grabbing the hand I had pinched and gently lifting it to peer at it. I nodded, and he glared at me for another moment to see if I was lying before he nodded, kissing the red finger gently. “Okay,” he murmured, and I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks, hoping it wasn’t visible but knowing it was when he smirked at me.

“What’re you making?” he asked, looking around, and I smiled shyly.

“A guitar,”

“A guitar?!” he shouted in surprise, and I nodded. “Can’t you just… buy one?” he asked, and I laughed.

“I already have,” I stood, my hand which was still in Four’s closing around his fingers and pulling him behind me into another section of my husk. He gasped. “These are my babies!” I beamed at him.

“That’s a… lot of instruments,” he mumbled, and I nodded excitedly. 

“Wanna meet them?” I asked, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Meet them?” he asked, an adorably confused look coming on his face. “You can meet instruments?”

“Yeah!” I giggled, pulling down one of my ukuleles. “This one is Monty, I got him in Vermont,” I handed it to Four, and he jumped, awkwardly cradling the ukulele.

“You name your instruments?” he asked in surprise, and I nodded.

“Of course! They have souls dude!” I said, and his eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Deadly,” I deadpanned, and he swallowed. I laughed at the awkward expression on his face. “Nah, but they’re all unique and deserve names,” Four chuckled at that, handing Monty back to me.

“Who’s this one?” he pointed at my Resonator, a beautiful acoustic guitar with a shining metal plate on the body, and I grinned at him.

“This is Olly,” and I spent the next hour or so with Four, introducing him to my instruments and just talking about music.

“Do you play any?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“I used to fiddle around, yeah,” he sighed. “But I never actually learned,” he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you want to?” I asked before I could stop myself, and flinched when his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

“I guess…” he trailed off.

“I could… teach you,” I timidly suggested, scooching a bit away from him on the couch we had been sitting on. “If you want,” I was quick to rush out, giving him an out.

“I’d like that,” he smiled at me, following me and taking my hand, not letting me back away, and I nodded.

“Okay,” I breathed, and we just spent a couple moments staring at each other. I hadn’t really noticed how pretty his eyes were. If I hadn’t researched him and seen the files that specifically said his eyes were green, I probably would’ve assumed they were blue from a distance. But sitting this close to him, I was reminded of how a cliche in romance novels was to say a love interest’s eyes were as blue as the ocean, and Four’s eyes were green like the ocean, in certain parts at least. In the dim light of the single lamp illuminating my husk at that moment, his eyes were a sea green that I could easily get lost in… had I not jumped ten feet in the air at hearing Three shout for me from the curtain to my husk. My eyes snapped away from Four’s, and I hunched my shoulders in embarrassment from staring at him so long as rushed out to the main section of my husk.

“What’s up?” I asked, pushing the curtain aside.

“¿Cuándo volverá Uno? _(When will One return?)_ ” he asked, and I shrugged.

“Sometime tomorrow, why?”

“Tengo un plan, _(I have a plan)_ ” he muttered, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“For what?”

“What’s going on?” Four asked, coming out from the closed off section of my husk where I kept my instruments. Three’s eyes widened, glancing between me and Four.

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively at me, and I glared back.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, perv,” I mumbled, shoving past him and going to the RV that we used as our kitchen.

“So you and…?” I heard as I walked away, and I rolled my eyes.

“Um… no,” Four responded, and I noticed something odd in his tone. I didn’t allow myself to think too long on it, instead climbing the steps to the RV and turning back to the guys. 

“How do you feel about pink sauce tortellini for dinner?” I asked, and with the way Three and Four looked at me you’d think I was a god.

“You can cook Italian?” Four asked, and I nodded.

“And not much else,” Three and Four laughed as I ducked through the doorway and got together the stuff I’d need to make our dinner. “Tell the others dinner will be ready in an hour, give or take,” I said, and the two nodded, turning and walking in opposite directions. I smiled to myself as they left, not noticing until I went to grab a pan that I had been absent mindedly rubbing the finger that Four had kissed.


	4. IV: The Box

I was sitting cross legged on the sofa in my husk, fiddling with my ukulele and playing no particular song, when the walkie I kept by the curtain to my husk went off.

“Alright people, look alive!” It was One, apparently back from picking up our new Seven, Blane. I heard the plane engine almost as soon as he said it, and ran out of my husk and to our main one. 

“But we’re ghosts,” I countered, and grinned as I waited for his response.

“Shut the fuck up,” One said after a moment of silence, and I giggled as I entered our main husk, plopping myself on top of one of the tables and sitting cross legged once again. I smiled at Two, who was leaning against a cork board we had, and she gave me the tiniest twitch of her lips back.

Soon enough One was pushing aside the plastic curtain to our main area, and a lean black man followed through after him: Our Seven.

“So there’s this trick,” One was saying. “That we all do to get through our day. We take a box, and into that box we place _all_ the horrors of the world, all the wrongs humans do to one another,” Three and Five entered the husk at this point, walking up to stand on either side of me, and Three took the chair in next to the table I was sitting on. “We pretend it doesn’t exist,” One continued. “Only some of us spend too much time inside the box, we’ve lost our ability to pretend. We know there’s too much unfinished business in this fucked up world. Our job as ghosts is to do the dirty work the living can’t, or won’t,” I heard a soft _clack_ , and turned my head to see Four depositing his skateboard against an old satellite dish before he walked up to join the rest of us. “And we do it from here, this is our haunted house,” One gestured around before coming and smacking my shoulder. “Get off the table, you heathen,” I rolled my eyes, but obliged him and went to stand in front of another table, this one with a light, and everyone else joined me in gathering around it.

“Sure thing,” I mumbled, and One dutifully ignored me.

“It’s a lot like the Bat Cave,” One said, and I snorted.

“Except it’s nothing like the Bat Cave,” One shot me a look and I simply grinned back at him, knowing it was very similar if not exactly what he was going to say and I was not at all apologetic for my input.

“Seven, you’re dead,” One continued. “You’re gonna be restricted to cities you’ve never visited before, people that you’ve never met, all of course except your fellow ghosts, none of whom you know by name, only number, for safety,” I rolled my eyes subtly, that idea had been solely One’s and I wasn’t a fan. “And so none of you get too close,” he added, and my eye roll was no longer subtle.

“I believe some introductions are in order,” I prompted after a moment of tense silence, and One straightened his shoulders, pointing around the table.

“As you know, I’m One, this is Two, Four, Three, Five, and Ex,” he pointed to each ghost as he said their name.

“Ex?” Seven asked, turning to look at me quizzically. “No number?” I smiled at him as I reached over to shake his hand.

“Nope,” I popped the ‘p’. “I’m just the non binary deity who watches over you fools,” I smirked as One cleared his throat, cutting in.

“They’re our people person, an expert profiler,” I winked, and Seven smiled back.

“They/them?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, thanks for checking dude,” he shrugged and nodded, turning to the others and holding small conversations with each one to understand their places on the team. After that, he looked around the room, raising a brow and turning to One.

“So there are 7 of us…” he said, and we all nodded, anticipating what he was going to ask. “But we have an Ex instead of a Six?” we all shook our heads.

“No,” One curtly responded, and Seven’s head tilted in confusion.

“Six died,” Four said before he could ask anything else, and I cringed slightly. It was still fresh for all of us, but I had a feeling that some of us had an easier time dealing with death than others. Seven nodded awkwardly, averting his gaze.

“Oh,”

* * *

A little later, when the sun had begun to set, I made my way out to a fire pit we had, getting a fire started and pulling out a couple of coolers with various alcoholic beverages shoved in them.

“Ghosts! Team meeting!” I called, and everyone came running out. One rose a brow at me when he saw the set up, and I simply grinned at him, propping my foot up on a log I had pulled in front of the fire pit. “So I know One doesn’t want us getting close-”

“Damn straight,” One cut me off, but I spoke over him.

“But a team needs trust, so let’s get fucking drunk,” I smirked at everyone, grabbing a bottle of bourbon and taking a long sip straight from the bottle as everyone else smiled and walked to the coolers to grab their drink of choice. I poured a generous amount of bourbon into a plastic cup and walked over to plop myself down on a log.

Three, Four, and Seven each grabbed a beer, while One and Five went for some cheap wine I had found a little bit ago. Two grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and I grinned, raising my bottle in a cheers to her. She rolled her eyes, plopping herself down next to me, with Three on my other side. Four, Five, and Seven sat on a log across the fire, and One stayed standing for a moment.

“Come on, grumpy,” I prompted, waving my hand around to gesture for him to sit. “Team bonding is important!” he rolled his eyes, but complied, taking a seat next to Seven and drinking a large gulp of wine.

* * *

It took a couple of minutes, but soon enough we were all laughing around the fire I had started, the alcohol having loosened the tension.

“So you’re a profiler,” Seven turned to me, and I nodded.

“Uh huh,” He smirked, spreading his arms out as if to say ‘come at me’ before taking a sip of his beer.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got,” I tilted my head in confusion. “Profile me,” I smiled, shaking my head at him.

“Nono…” I denied him, but he pouted at me, and soon the others were joining in.

“Yeah, profile me too!” Four said, and I continued to shake my head.

“Si, yo también! _(Yes, me too!)_ ” Three piped up, and I held up a hand to silence my fellow ghosts.

“I can’t profile you guys,” I said, and the pouting continued. “I already know everything,” at this I got confused looks from everyone, and I rolled my eyes before explaining, I had thought they already knew that I was the one who had found each of them. “I’m the one who found you all, One just did most of the recruiting,” I said, and Seven looked between me and our mentioned leader.

“Wait…” he shook his head, blinking harshly in surprise. “So who’s in charge?” he asked, and I giggled.

“I like to let One think he is, so he can feel important,”

“I detest that!” One grumbled, and I just smiled saccharinely at him, shooting a finger gun at him.

“But I suppose since I’ve been dead the longest, I am,” I continued, and everyone’s brows rose in surprise.

“How long have you been dead?” Five asked, and I smiled shyly.

“Six years,” Most of the other ghosts let out surprised gasps.

“Really?” Four asked, and I nodded.

“¿Cuántos años tienes? _(How old are you?)_ ” Three asked.

“I’m 24,” I answered, and before I could even blink Three had wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his shoulder, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

“¿Cuando sólo tenías 18 años? Dios mío… _(When you were only 18 years old? My god…)_ ” he murmured, and I shrugged, trying to convey that it wasn’t a huge deal.

“Oh wow, you can do math!” I teased with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. I know I was the one who wanted to do the whole bonding thing… but I didn’t have deep, depressing conversations in mind, I more wanted us to get drunk and do stupid shit together.

“Shut up,” Three growled jokingly at me, and I giggled. I jerked slightly in surprise when Two rested a hand on my knee, squeezing comfortingly and sending me a questioning look as if to ask if I was okay. I smiled at her, nodding and grabbing her hand. She looked at me in confusion for a moment before I yanked hard on her wrist, pulling her against Three and my bodies and snuggling into them.

“Does this mean I’m Two and a Half?” I asked jokingly from my spot between them, and Three laughed while Two just gave me a small smile to show she was amused.

“No,” One piped up, and I pouted jokingly at him.

“You suck the joy out of everything!” I whined, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“You know how I can really steal your joy?” he threatened, standing and stalking over to me. “I can take your bourbon!” he lunged for the cup in my hand, and without even thinking my foot shot out and landed right under his chin, knocking him back a couple of steps.

“Don’t touch!” I shouted as my leg shot up, and then my eyes widened as One stumbled backwards, almost into the fire before Three’s arm was shooting out and grabbing One’s flailing one and yanking him away from the fire. My eyes were wide in shock at the series of events that had unfolded in less than thirty seconds, and I locked eyes with Four from across the fire, seeing the same expression on his face. We had a moment of staring at each other awkwardly before Four stuck his tongue out at me, breaking the moment and causing me to giggle slightly.

Soon enough my cup was empty, and I pouted when I rose it to my lips only to get nothing down my throat.

“One!" I whined to him, and he gave me an exasperated look from his spot next to Seven, where he had returned after almost being burned alive. “Can you get me more bourbon, pretty please?” I asked, shooting him some puppy dog eyes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” he countered, and my pout deepened.

“I’m all comfy!” I whined, snuggling further into Two and Three to accentuate my point, and One groaned as he stood up.

“Fine,” he acquiesced, trudging over to the cooler where I had placed my bottle. The others all raised their eyebrows, surprised that he was actually doing what I had asked.

“Are you two…?” Four began, but both One and I cut him off.

“No!” I shouted.

“That’s disgusting!” One shouted at the same time, and Four flinched, raising his hands in surrender. I turned my head to look at One, and he plopped the bottle into my waiting hands as he returned to his seat.

“Thank you!” I smiled at him, and he just flipped me off. “Ouch,” I faux pouted at him, and he rolled his eyes right back. Three snorted a bit.

“Lindo, _(Cute)_ ,” he said, and I tilted my head from where it rested on his shoulder so I could glare at him. He shrugged. “¿Qué? Es cierto! _(What? It’s true!)_ ” he defended himself, and it was my turn to roll my eyes.

“You know what I haven’t done in forever?” Five suddenly piped up, and we all turned our heads to look at her questioningly. She grinned. “A drinking game!”

“I’ve never done one!” I said, nodding at her.

“What kind of drinking game?” Two asked, and I shrugged.

“Never Have I Ever is a good start, right?” Five asked, and Two, One, and Seven nodded.

“What is that?” Three asked, and Five rose a brow at him.

“You’ve never played Never Have I Ever?” she challenged, and he just shook his head with a blank look on his face. She sighed. “I guess that’s what we’re playing, everyone grab a hard alcohol,” she said, and those of us who didn’t already have hard liquor got up and grabbed a bottle from the coolers. “So basically, we go around and say something we’ve never done,” Five explained. “If we have done what someone else says, we take a shot, and if only one person takes a shot they have to tell the story,” Everyone nodded.

“I’ll start,” One volunteered, looking around. “Easy one, never have I ever smoked weed,” I looked around as I raised the bottle to my lips for a swig and saw Three, Four, and Five also drinking. One rose his eyebrows at me, and I smiled sheepishly. “Two?” he prompted, skipping Three and I, and I figured he was going in numerical order.

“Never have I ever went skinny dipping,” I cringed, realizing this might not have been the best game to play with my older brother. I took a drink, as did One, Four, and Seven. Once again, One looked at me in surprise, and my cheeks pinked as the others also stared at me.

“Really?” Seven asked, and I nodded. 

“I don’t have to tell a story, right? Other people drank!” I looked pleadingly at Five, and she nodded with an eye roll. 

“Three?” she asked, and he thought for a moment, casting his gaze upward as he tried to think of something.

“Never have I ever hunted an animal,” he said finally, and Seven was the only one to drink this time. He shrugged.

“I only did it once, and I didn’t even catch anything, my cousin dragged me out into the woods and said we were gonna catch the Thanksgiving turkey,” he chuckled a bit. “He was drunk off his ass and I was really going along so he didn’t end up killing himself by accident,” we all laughed softly. “So he did end up shooting something, but it was the sickest, skinniest turkey either of us had ever seen, and my aunt refused to cook it, which ended up being a good thing because my cousin painted the blood on his face after he shot it, and ended up getting all kinds of sick from it,” he laughed at the memory, and we all smiled at him, before Seven turned to Four, nudging him to say it was his turn.

“Never have I ever…” he trailed off, thinking. “Been trapped in an elevator,” Five was the only one to drink this time, and we all looked at her, ready for a story.

“With my creepy neighbor,” she said, and we all gasped.

“No…” I muttered, and she smirked at me.

“I broke his nose,” she shrugged, and I whooped a bit, Three laughing maniacally next to me.

“Yass queen!” I cheered, and she smirked at me, raising her bottle in cheers to me. “Your turn,” She thought.

“Uh… never have I ever dyed my hair,” Two and I both took shots, and we smiled at each other softly in comradery. I was kind of surprised that Four hadn’t taken a drink, with his bright blonde hair I would have expected him to have dyed it at least once. I giggled a bit, starting to feel on the right side of tipsy.

“Seven!” I cheered, raising my bottle to him. “What you got?”

“Never have I ever…” he looked around, making eye contact with each of the other males in the group. “Gotten drunk and pissed in public,” sure enough, One, Three, and Four all groaned and took shots. Nobody seemed surprised. 

“Ex?” One prompted, wincing a bit at his drink.

“Never have I ever…” I thought for a moment before I smirked, holding eye contact with One. “Gotten slapped in the face,” he shrugged his shoulders lightly, taking a swig from his bottle before looking around, expecting someone else to drink. When no one else did, he groaned.

“Seriously?” he asked, and we all laughed at his misfortune.

“Spit it up!” Five demanded, reaching across Four and Seven and nudging him, and One sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I may or may not have had sex with a business contact’s wife…” he paused, and I rose my eyebrows, waiting for him to tell everyone the rest. “And then told the wife I understood why her husband was so grumpy all the time,” Five, Seven, and Two all gasped at that, and I giggled.

“Damn,” Seven breathed, looking at One with wide eyes. “You’re an asshole!”

“Yep,” One made no effort to deny it. He looked around, realizing everyone had gone. “Alright, how many shots has everyone had to take?” he asked, and I giggled.

“Three,” I answered, and he rose his brows at me.

“Me too,”

“One,” Two answered, and I looked at her in shock. 

“Two,” Three said, and once again I was surprised.

“Three,” Four answered, and this was more on par with what I expected, though I was still surprised that both Two and Three had taken less shots than me. 

“Two,” Five said.

“Ditto,” Seven agreed with Five, and my eyes widened as I shook my head.

“Two!” I glared at the blonde. She hummed in question at me. “You need to get drunk! It isn’t fair! Down the rest of that!” I pointed to the bottle still in her hand. “And then go grab another one!” I demanded, and she shrugged, gracefully standing and downing the rest of the bottle and grabbing another. I was envious of how sober she appeared.

“Great idea!” One shouted, and I winced at his volume. He stood, probably to grab another drink, before he collapsed right back onto Seven’s lap. They both let out an ‘oof’ at the impact and both Three and I began laughing maniacally.

“What do you think?” I asked him, raising my brows, and he smirked, knowing exactly what I was asking.

“20 dólares dice que se besan en un mes, _(20 bucks says they kiss in a month)_ ” he bet, and I shook my head.

“No way, he’s more stubborn,” I jutted my chin out to point at One, who was drunkenly trying to stand off of Seven’s lap, and failing. “I say on Día de los Muertos,” I countered, and Three nodded, a hand appearing in my field of vision. We shook on it, and I looked back across the fire to laugh some more at One and Seven’s misfortune. Casting my gaze next to Seven, I was surprised to see Four’s gaze already on me, though he was quick to look away. Five nudged his shoulder, quietly asking him something I couldn’t hear, and he just smiled, downing another huge gulp of his drink.

“...so...yyyyy,” I heard him slur back, not able to catch all of what he said, and Five laughed at him.

“Announcement!” She called, and everyone looked over at her expectantly. “Four is officially drunk!” We all cheered, raising our bottles and taking big swigs. I raised my arms in the symbol for a touchdown.

“Congratulations!” I cheered, and Four just grinned at me, a pink flush on his cheeks from the drink.

“Oi!” he called. “Three!” the man I was leaning on looked at him with a confused stare. “Stop hogging Ex!” he slurred, and Three and I exchanged glances.

“¿Qué quiere decir? _(What does he mean?)_ ” Three asked, and I shrugged.

“I have no clue,” I murmured back. Four didn’t say anything more, just made grabby hands towards me and then gestured to his lap. I blushed, glad that we had all been drinking so it was easy to blame on the alcohol.

“¿Él te gusta? _(Do you like him?)_ ” Three asked me, his voice low, and I felt my cheeks get even hotter as I answered.

“Tal vez un poco, _(Maybe a little bit)_ ,” I answered, and Three nudged my shoulder, jolting me forward and causing me to look up at him in confusion.

“¡Lo hablas tú! _(You do speak it!)_ ” he whisper-shouted, and I shook my head.

“No, I just know that phrase,” I countered, and he shrugged, smirking at me before he forced me to stand, guiding me across the fire and shoving me unceremoniously into Four’s lap. I squeaked in surprise, my tipsy self not really even noticing we were moving until I was plopped into his lap. Three just laughed at me, shaking his head and returning to the log with Two, who scooched over and laid her head on his shoulder. I sent a look over to Three, and he just rolled his eyes at me.

“¿Hablas español? _(Do you speak Spanish?)_ ” Five asked me, having heard bits and snippets of my conversation with Three, and I shook my head.

“Nah, but I understand it,” I explained, and she nodded, satisfied with my answer.

I hummed when Four nuzzled his face into my neck, very happy with the snuggles I was receiving.

“Keep it PG!” One shouted, and I blushed.

“Keep cuddling with your boyfriend!” I shot back, and both he and Seven sputtered, the ex military sniper shoving a very drunk One off of him, falling on the ground with an ‘oof’. I giggled at the scene, and Four’s arms which had encircled my waist tightened around me. I sighed, shifting so that not all my was on Four, but his arms just tightened further and he pulled me back to where I was straddling his lap. 

“Stay, love,” he murmured, large hand going to the back of my neck and gently guiding my face to rest in the crook of his neck. I breathed him in, humming happily and I enjoyed the snuggles, and my eyes began to close.


	5. V: Best Part About Being Dead

Around a week after Seven arrived at our haunted airfield, I was finally putting the finishing details on the guitar I had been building. 

“Ex?” I heard Four call as I was finishing up the paint job, and I set aside the brush with a confused look. We hadn’t really spoken all that much since I had fallen asleep on his lap that night…

* * *

_I woke up with a small smile on my face, the sun warming it, and I wiggled around to burrow further into my pillow, when I heard a grunt. My eyes shot open and I was luckily able to hold in a shriek when I realized my face was tucked into Four’s muscled neck._

_“Eep!” I squeaked, and he startled. “I’m really sorry!” I moved to get up, and his arms tightened around me almost reflexively before he let go with a sheepish look on his face._

_“It’s all good,” he shrugged, pointedly avoiding my gaze and I tried to stutter out a reply, feeling an embarrassing warmth creep up my neck to my cheeks. I shuffled off of his lap, stumbling when I came to stand on my feet, and his hands shot out to support my waist. I sent him a sheepishly thankful smile._

_“Thanks,” I murmured, and he nodded at me with a soft smile in return._

_“No problem,” he replied, standing himself and stretching with his arms wide above his head, causing his t-shirt to lift up and reveal the lower part of his stomach and a trail of fine blond hair leading down from his navel. I gulped, blush intensifying, and turned away, practically running to my husk._

_“I’m gonna go get dressed I’ll see you around!” I shouted out in a rush as I sped away from him, refusing to look back._

* * *

“In here!” I called for Four to come in, wiping the paint that had got on my hands off on a rag I had handy. He pushed aside the curtain that served as the door and stepped inside, allowing it to fall shut behind him. “What’s up?” I asked, and he bit his lip, a hand raising to rub at the back of his neck. I tried not to let my eyes be drawn to his lips at the action, but I found myself glancing at them before forcing myself to meet his eyes once more.

“I was hoping I could… um…” he stuttered in a fashion that was very unlike him, and my brows pinched together in concern, approaching him. “Do you still want to teach me guitar?” he eventually asked, his words stringing together in a way that made them almost impossible to understand, but after a moment of replaying what he had asked in my head I was able to piece it together.

“Oh!” I gasped in pleasant surprise, beaming at him. “Of course!” I reached out and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to my couch in the room where I kept my instruments. I let go of his hand to place mine on his shoulders, pushing down to get him to sit on the couch, and grabbed Olly, my resonator, and Cooper, my ¾ acoustic guitar. I handed Olly to him before sitting next to him on the couch, putting Cooper to the side for a moment and turning on a lamp for some more light as it had fallen dark a little bit ago before facing him.

“This one is…” Four thought for a moment, his eyes squinting in concentration. “Olly, right?” he asked, and my smile widened as I nodded at him.

“Yeah!” I confirmed. “I’m impressed you remembered,” he smiled sheepishly at me, shrugging, and I nodded, motioning to the guitar. “So you said you’ve fiddled…” he nodded at me in confirmation. “How much fiddling did you do?” I asked, and Four shrugged.

“I mean, I figured out Seven Nation Army when I was really bored,” he said, and I grinned, picking Cooper up and beginning to pick the riff for _Seven Nation Army_ by The White Stripes.

“Join in if you remember,” I told him, and he nodded, looking at my hands for a bit before he began playing along, his foot tapping to the beat. “ _I’m gonna fight ‘em all_ ,” I sang, and his eyes widened as his head snapped up to look at me, but I pointedly avoided his gaze and nodded for him to keep playing. “ _A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back…_ ” I continued to sing until the end of the second verse, where I set Cooper aside once more, and Four stopped picking, looking up at me with still wide eyes. “So do you know any chords?” I asked, and Four ignored my question.

“I didn’t know you could sing!” he gushed with a large smile, and I blushed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“It’s not really something that comes up,” I shrugged, and he grabbed my hand near my face to give it a quick squeeze, letting go as fast as he had grabbed on.

“Your voice is gorgeous,” he complimented.

“Th-thank you,” I stuttered, averting my gaze as Four continued to stare at me in what almost appeared to be awe. I shook my head, snapping myself out of the awkward headspace I was put in whenever I received compliments, and snapped my eyes up to meet his again. “Chords?” I repeated, and he shook his head.

“Nah,” he seemed a little embarrassed, but I was quick to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, I said I’d teach you, didn’t I?” I asked, and he nodded. “Alright, so let’s start with a song then…” I thought for a moment. “Radioactive?”

“What?”

“Radioactive,” I repeated, tilting my head at the blank stare Four was giving me. “Ya know, _I’m waking up, to ash and dust_ ,” he shook his head, continuing to give me that blank stare, and I sighed. “How about Boulevard of Broken Dreams?” again he shook his head. “Green Day?” I was beginning to understand how Four felt when no one knew who The Cleavers were. “How to Save a Life?” again, nothing. “How do you not know any of these?” I asked, throwing my hands up in exasperation, and he shrugged, looking at me apologetically.

“I don’t know,” was all he could say, and I just sighed, shaking my head in astonishment that he had really heard none of these songs. 

“How about Riptide?” I asked, and finally his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Oh yeah I know that one!” he beamed, excited like a puppy that he finally knew a song I was talking about. I beamed in return.

“Alright!” I began to show him the three chords for Riptide, and at first he wasn’t really getting it.

“Why does it sound like that?” he asked, and I giggled, reaching my hand up to push his fingers harder against the strings.

“You really need to press the strings down or they won’t make noise,” I explained. “Until you build up calluses it’ll hurt if you play for a long time, but you’ll get it,” I told him, and he nodded, strumming once more and this time a more full sound came from the guitar. His head snapped up to look at me, and the pride in his eyes was adorable as slowly a smile lit up his face. He moved onto the next chord, again getting the proper sound, and the same with the final chord.

“I’m doing it!” he laughed excitedly, and I nodded, smiling and opening my mouth to continue to encourage him, but I cut myself off with a yawn. My hand snapped to my mouth as my entire body seized up with the yawn, and Four checked his watch. “Holy shit it’s midnight!” he gasped, standing and setting Olly back on the peg on the wall. “I should let you sleep,” I shook my head frantically as he began to leave, the exhaustion beginning to kick in now that the seal had been broken with my yawn.

“I’m fiiiiine,” I slurred, waving my hands at him, and he just laughed fondly at me, thrusting out a hand to help me up. I took it, and he began to walk me to my bed. “Buy me a drink first,” I joked, and he shook his head, shooting me a fond smile as he pushed aside the blankets. I sat on the bed yanking on his hand to get him to sit with me, but he resisted, staying standing. “Come on, cuddle with me!” I whined, but Four shook his head.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, leaning down to peck my forehead and turning to leave. I pouted at his back, but once he was gone I raised my hand to rub the spot he had kissed, a stupid smile breaking out on my face as I sighed and flopped back onto my bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas.

* * *

The next day we had driven the many miles to the next town to eat at a diner Three had discovered a couple weeks earlier. We were discussing the best parts about being dead to the rest of the world after Seven asked each of our opinions on it.

“When you’re dead you get to stop all the bullshit,” Three was saying around a mouthful of pancakes. “No more DMV lines, no more shopping Christmas-”

“Backstabbing girlfriends,” Four piped up, and my eyes shot over to look at him. He shook his head at my concerned look, and I shrugged, returning to my own plate of pancakes.

“They should make an “Out of Office” reply for dead people: Sorry I’m away from the planet right now, I’m fucking dead,” Five said, and I began to giggle at that. I forced myself to swallow the forkful of pancakes I had shoved into my mouth before she said that so I wouldn’t spit it all over the table, and once it was down my throat my giggles turned into all out laughter.

“It wasn’t that funny,” One held a hand up towards me, raising an eyebrow, and I just stuck my tongue out at him.

“The best part about it is obviously no more fake smiles for your boss, or for that bitch of a neighbor who you can’t fucking stand but you have to be civil to,” I said. “There are absolutely zero social expectations because 99% of the people you see, you’re never going to see them again,” Seven nodded at that.

“I respect that,” he agreed.

“No more tax, no more criminal records,” Four said, and I nodded. “no more getting arrested by the pigs just for being naked or… just usual stuff. You know? Being naked, getting drunk. Casual… stuff,” he continued, and I blushed at the image. I had read his criminal record, there were a couple public indecency charges in there, but hearing it from his mouth… 

“¿Hace calor aquí? _(Is it hot in here?)_ ” Three teased, and I pouted, my blush deepening.

“Shut up,” I muttered back.

“Know what the best part about being dead is?” Five asked, and Four hummed in question. “No more immigration lines,” Seven turned his head to stare at her quizzically. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fucking American,” she shot at him, and Three rose a hand.

“I’m illegal!” he volunteered gleefully, and One rolled his eyes.

“You sure are cynical,”

“How about high blood pressure?” Three continued. “ Fuck you, high blood pressure, I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want, thank you very much” he shovelled some more pancakes in his mouth, and I giggled at that. He shot me a silly wink, and my giggles increased.

“You realize you’re actually still alive, right?” Two countered, and Three snapped his head up to stare at her for a moment before scowling and going to snatch the sugar in front of him. Before his hand reached it, however, a whirring sound came from under the table and the sugar, along with the metal salt and pepper shakers, began moving across the table. I looked across the table at One to see a smirk on his face as his thumb swiped across his phone, moving the sugar out of Three’s reach. Three was finally able to snatch the sugar, and sent a pointed glare at One.

“And fuck you too, technology,” he murmured, pouring the sugar in his coffee, and One and I shared small smirks across the table. He had gotten the patent for neodymium, his magnet technology, a couple weeks before my first birthday, so he had been fucking around with magnets all my life. I was used to making sure I didn’t wear any metal that could be magnetized, and the amount of items I owned that could be magnetized I kept out of his reach, a lesson I learned very early on.

“You guys, you got it all wrong, you know, best thing about being dead, is the freedom. I mean we’re all gonna die, may as well do it while we’re alive, right?” One said, and I rolled my eyes, leaning back into my seat.

“That was definitely _not_ what I had in mind when I started this bullshit,” I muttered, and One shot me a look. “But whatever,” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest, and One continued as if I hadn’t said anything. 

“When you’re young you-you lock yourselves into all of these bad decisions, you know, marriages and mortgages and all that kind of stuff,” he explained, and I rolled my eyes.

“I was too young to have had any of that stuff,” I muttered under my breath, One continuing to ignore my commentary. 

“But you die? It’s all erased. Poof! Gone. From that point forward, all that matters is what you choose. The point is-” he paused, looking around. “is that we should bring Seven behind the curtain, wanna hand me those over there?" he pointed to some empty cups on a nearby table, and Two handed them over, allowing One to start his demonstration. “No technology,” One reassured Three, who scoffed and turned his chair so he could lean against the back of it. “This is how to stage a coup in three not-so-easy steps,” he began, placing some clear cups together.

“The funny part is how ridiculous this sounds, but it really is 3 steps,” I piped up, and One rolled his eyes but nodded at me, and Seven raised his eyebrows.

“You got a country, Turgistan, yeah? These are the people, nice people, going about, doing their thing,” he gestured to the four clear cups he had placed together, then he grabbed four red cups. “Then you got the four generals, cuatro cunts, very bad guys,” he stacked the red cups on top of the clear ones, then held up a finger and grabbed a final clear cup. “But there’s one worse guy, that’s the piece of shit dictator, right there at the top,” he placed the final cup on top of the red cups, and gestured as if to say ‘ta-da’. Two then passed him a salt shaker.

“Don’t forget his brother,” she reminded him.

“ _Democracy_ loving brother,” Three piped up with that very important detail, and One nodded.

“He’s the key,” One explained. “So we’re gonna kill the 4 generals, they’re gonna lead us to the brother,”

“You kill top generals, you fuck a dictator’s day,” Three piped up once more, and I giggled softly at his wording.

“Second thing we’re gonna do is we’re gonna free the brother, and then the last thing we’re gonna do, is say goodbye to piece of shit dictator, and hello to democracy-loving brother,” One finished, knocking the top clear cup over and replacing it with the salt shaker that represented the brother, Murat.

“It all goes down in 4 months, _El Día de los Muertos_ , Day of the Dead,” Three said, and we all looked at Seven, who’s eyes widened in surprise, looking around at us.

“Oh that’s it?” he asked, and I nodded at him. “Oh, well, that’s pretty simple, you know? Just cups…” he trailed off and I caught One doing this weird eyebrow thing at him. I shot him a teasing look and he just glared back at me. “So we’re all gonna die?” Seven asked, and Two sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“Not me,”

“She’s not,” One agreed. “We all are,” I began to giggle, and he shot a pointed glare at me. “Painfully,” I just shrugged, and Seven leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“So what else can you tell me about this guy Rovach in Turgistan?” he asked, and One stood up, throwing a wad of bills on the counter.

“I’ll leave that to Ex and Four,” he said, and I nodded before doing a double take, looking back up at him.

“Wait, what?” I asked, and he just gave me a stare down, causing me to sigh and stand as well.

“Have fun briefing him, I got a date with The Breakfast Club,” One said, walking out of the diner, stopping right before he reached the door and turning to glare at me. “Which you apparently watched _without_ me,” I winced.

“Sorry?” he just let out an agitated puff of breath, dramatically turning away from me and leading the way out the door of the diner. 


	6. VI: One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see One's point of view of finding out Ex is alive

[redacted] sighed heavily as he got out of his car and slammed the door shut, his mind drifting to a certain dark haired bartender he had met on his trip abroad.

He had gone to Paris to see Rovach for himself, and he had, but as soon as his self appointed mission had been completed, he had found his way into the arms of the pretty French girl who had served him a drink. They had spent the weekend together, barely leaving his hotel suite, and while they had both agreed at the end of their little tryst that it was just sex, [redacted] had a difficult time getting her out of his mind.

It was kind of ridiculous how compatible he felt with her, or rather felt she was for him. She was gorgeous, and witty, and instead of wanting to punch his teeth out for his dry and usually dark sense of humor, she matched it and sometimes even raised the anti on him. 

A twinge in [redacted]’s shoulder when he pulled his suitcase out of his trunk distracted him from thoughts of Arianna, and instead sent his spiraling mind in a completely different direction: to Rovach. When he had been in Turgistan and their dictator had dropped the bombs, [redacted]’s shoulder had been injured when he frantically yanked a little boy into his arms to put a mask on him, and the injury still bothered him from time to time. Though he found his shoulder wasn’t even the worst thing haunting him from that day. It was sick and twisted, truly evil, what Rovach had done, and in addition to the sight of all the suffering the evil motherfucker had caused, [redacted] thought he saw his little sibling, Ex.

They had been dead 3 years at that point, and in [redacted]’s drugged up state, he had thought his nurse had been them. He had heard their voice, thought he felt a kiss on his forehead, but upon waking up once the drugs had flushed out of his system, he found himself alone except for the hospital staff, and there was no record of any visitors. He even went so far as to hack the hospital’s security tapes, and found nothing, no evidence of his beloved deceased sibling. But what was he expecting to find? A ghost? His sibling back from the dead? He scoffed at himself for thinking it.

[redacted] placed his suitcase down momentarily to type in the keycode to his front door, and then swung the door open, looking around the foyer of his too large house that he had shared with Ex before their death. Everything was exactly where he had left it, which was expected, his million dollar security system wasn’t just for show, and he dropped his heavy suitcase with a loud  _ thud _ . Sighing in the relief of being home, [redacted] turned to head into his kitchen to grab something to drink, preferably something alcoholic, but he froze when he heard a  _ thunk _ come from somewhere in the other direction. His head tilted as he stayed completely still, holding his breath as he listened. The  _ thunk _ came again causing him to jump, and he whipped around, rushing down the hall towards the direction sound came from, pausing only to grab a small handgun from a nondescript hidden drawer near the entryway.

He rushed down the hallway where his dead little sibling’s untouched room was, and paused just outside their door. His head whipped around, scanning the other doors, but the  _ thunk _ came once more, and there was no mistaking that it was coming from inside the room. The room that he hadn’t even entered since helping Ex pack for their trip to Nantucket, where they had killed themselves on the ferry. Taking a deep breath, his hand slowly lowered to the door, grasping the knob, and then he was pushing it open.

“You know, you could’ve at least hidden that porn magazine under my bed or something,” the voice of his dead sibling rang through the room, and [redacted]’s eyes widened in rage as he slammed the door the rest of the way open, raising the gun and pointing it into the face of someone who looked eerily like their sibling. They were a couple of years older, though Ex had died 4 years ago, and had the same grey eyes, and Ex’s natural hair color as opposed to the deep blue it had been dyed the last time [redacted] saw them.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he screamed at them, shaking the gun threateningly, ignoring the bile that rose in his throat at pointing a gun at someone who looked so much like his beloved Ex. “Who the FUCK are you, you SICK MOTHERFUCKER?” he demanded, and the person’s eyes widened as they stood from where they had been sitting on the bed, their hands raising in a placating gesture.

“Woah! Woah! It’s me!” they shouted, and [redacted] heard their voice crack. “[redacted],” their voice lowered and the way they said his name was almost soft. He held in a sob at his sibling’s voice, it couldn’t be them. This joke was beyond sick, it was cruel. “It’s me!” they repeated, and he shook his head, tightening his grip on the gun and moving his finger towards the trigger, enraged that someone would do something so terribly vile just to fuck with him.

“No!” he growled at them, blinking violently and jerking his chin to the side to clear the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “My sibling died, they killed themselves, you are  _ not _ Ex!” he insisted, shaking the gun once more, though at this point it was impossible to tell whether it was intentional or it was shaking because his hands were shaking so bad.

“Hey! Hey!” they shouted, keeping their body perfectly still as to not provoke him. “OKAY!” they screamed, voice cracking in fear, and [redacted] ceased the shaking of the gun, though a slight tremor remained, and he rose his eyebrows, thinking the person was going to fess up. Instead they screamed the most random anecdote [redacted] had ever heard. “You lost your virginity when you were 17 and I was 2 and I had a nightmare about Snow White and walked in on it!” they screamed at him, and his brows furrowed as he lifted his finger away from the trigger, confused as to how they could possibly know that, especially what the dream was about. “Our favorite movie to watch together was The Breakfast Club and we can both recite the entire thing! Your favorite TV show has always been Leave it to Beaver for some unknown reason despite how much I hate it, and how much you try to deny it! I was the one who broke that $1 million couch but you said it was you because I had just turned 18 and was legally independent!” they listed off, and [redacted]’s hand shook as he stared at them, the fact that Ex was alive and right here in front of him slowly sinking into his mind.

He flung the gun onto the bed after flicking the safety back on, and crossed the room in 2 wide steps before grabbing his little sibling and pulling them against his chest, crushing them to him and resting his chin on top of their head as he breathed in deeply.

“You’re an ass,” he muttered into their hair, feeling himself beginning to cry, and the dam broke when Ex sobbed into his chest.

“I know,” they whispered, hiccuping as they cried against him, and [redacted] allowed his own tears to flow freely. His arms tightened around Ex as their hands fisted around the lapels of his jacket, and the siblings stood there for a couple moments of silence, relishing in the fact that they were together once more.

“Why?” [redacted] was eventually able to force out of his throat, and Ex sighed, shuffling so they were sitting on the bed together and they were partially on his lap. He held in another sob that threatened to break from his throat at the familiarity of the act, simply tightening his hold on them further.

“Being dead makes my plan so much easier,” Ex explained, their voice hoarse from the crying, and [redacted] heard himself huff.

“But you’re not dead?” he phrased the statement as a question, and could feel his brows pinch together in confusion.

“Exactly,” Ex giggled into his chest. “But according to social media, government files, and everything else, I’m a ghost, so basically I’m untraceable,” they explained, and [redacted]’s chin snapped down to stare at them quizzically. They couldn’t possibly…

“Why would you need to be untraceable?” he hesitantly asked.

“So we can make some wrong things right,” no way…

“Huh?” he responded intelligently.

“Rovach, we’re gonna take him down” [redacted] jerked in shock, pulling away from Ex to stare them in the eyes, knowing a look of wonder was in his own. They had the same plan… 

“That’s freaky…” he murmured, and Ex giggled, raising their eyebrows at him.

“Great minds think alike?” they guessed, and [redacted] huffed out a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he muttered, tugging Ex back into his chest.

* * *

A month or so later, [redacted], or One, as they had decided he would be called, was in a desert, flying a plane he had bought for this exact purpose. As his engines failed, his eyes snapped to the pictures of Arianna he had placed along the dash, and he brushed his fingers along them tenderly before squeezing his eyes shut and hitting the release.

He released his parachute and floated down to where Ex was waiting for him on their motorcycle that they had worked on together when they were a teenager. Now that One knew they were alive, he found a way to get the motorcycle to them.

“Ready?” his little sibling asked, and he nodded, a slight smile on his face.

“Let’s go,”

And so One became One, and the team of ghosts were officially starting to come together.


	7. VII: Get Along Shirt

We had returned from the diner and Four and I had led Seven to the camper trailer that we had dedicated to information on Murat’s whereabouts. While the information was technically extensive, most of the files were red herrings or dead leads we had exhausted ages ago. There was an old TV that One had bought to keep in there and Four was using it to watch _Leave it to Beaver_. I found myself cringing at every other word out of the character’s mouths, but Four insisted on watching it so that he could understand, or at least try to understand One’s references.

Four was reclining in an office chair, his feet up on the table that also hosted the TV, and I was sitting cross legged on top of a desk behind him. Seven was awkwardly looking around the camper, trying to figure out what to ask us first.

“Hey, what do you know about One?” Seven finally asked, and I had genuinely not expected that to be the first question out of his mouth. I coughed a bit in surprise, and Four sent me a part curious, part concerned look, but I shook my head.

“I’m fine,” I wheezed out once I had recovered from the shock of that question, and Four shrugged, turning to look at Seven and beginning to answer his question.

“Well he loves Wally the dog,” we looked down at the poor old mastiff One had insisted we bring with us from Boston. He had gotten the mangy thing with a laundy’s list of respiratory issues a couple of months after my ‘death’, and at that point the dog was already 4 years old. Four continued. “He’s obsessed with this _Beaver_ show,” he gestured to the TV, and I rolled my eyes with an agreeing hum. “I think he’s an orphan actually,” I tensed at that, looking between Four and Seven, and I was grateful to see that Seven’s attention was fully on Four, who was facing away from me, so nobody would notice my discomfort with the topic of conversation. “We got a little bet on it if you wanna put some money in,” he grinned roguishly at Seven before turning it to me. I blushed at the look, trying and failing to ignore how handsome he was, and quickly schooled my expression. “Ex here has refused to bet on it, though I think it’s cuz they know and aren’t telling us,” Four nudged my thigh with his elbow, wiggling his eyebrows in a silly way, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s an interesting crew you got here, bro,” Seven mumbled as he looked through some photos. “How many missions you guys run?”

“Counting Florence?” I cringed.

“Yeah,”

“One,” Four answered, and Seven’s eyes snapped from the pictures to the brit in shock.

“One what?” he asked hesitantly, and Four reached over to turn the TV off, turning back to Seven, he obviously didn’t see the issue.

“Well actually, no, there was, um, this like… mini-mission, so maybe like one and a quarter,” he corrected. “It was in Sicily,” he shot me a subtle wink accompanied by a smirk and I averted my gaze, feeling my cheeks start to burn again. “But Florence, absolute shitshow, I mean, if I wasn’t there… probably more than one of us dead,” I winced at the blunt comment, and saw Seven’s brows raise in shock and fury. “That’s all I’m saying,”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, voice raising slightly in outrage. Four looked at him, puzzled.

“I don’t fuck around,”

“You realize I just buried myself in front of my family and friends?” Seven’s gaze was snapping between me and Four, and I guiltily averted my gaze. I’d need to talk to One about being forthcoming to new recruits… not that I expected us to get anymore new recruits anytime soon. At least, I hoped we wouldn’t need to recruit anyone else for a long time, Six’s loss was tough enough.

“Yeah, One told me about that! Big mig military funeral, guns popping, flags,” he grinned in excitement. “Pretty cool. At my funeral, there was five people there and two of them left before the end,” I nodded in confirmation, having been there. “It is tough watching your mum cry at your grave,” he muttered as an afterthought, and his gaze cast itself to the ground, reflective.

“Yeah,” Seven awkwardly agreed, and they both turned to me, noticing I had been oddly silent about the whole affair.

“I don’t have a grave,” I murmured, picking at my fingers awkwardly.

“What?” Seven asked. “I thought you died?” he accused, and I rose my hands in defense.

“I did!” I insisted. “But in my will I asked for a sapling to be planted instead of a gravestone,” I explained, and both Four and Seven’s eyes widened.

“Huh,” Four leaned forward, fiddling with something on the table.

“That’s nice,” Seven said awkwardly, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I think making money off the dead is sick and fucked up,” I continued, face pinching in rage at the thought. “I understand people need to make a living and all but charging thousands of dollars for a small plot of land to bury your dead and honor them in? Seriously?” there was a tense moment of silence before Four spoke up once more.

“Are you sure you’re American?”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered in response, crossing my arms. “Fuck capitalism,” another tense moment of silence followed.

“I thought it was just an environment thing…” Seven muttered, eyeing me oddly. “But that’s… a lot,” he snickered, and I shrugged, leaning back against the wall.

“Anyway, this mission, I got a good feeling-I got a really good feeling about this mission,” Four thankfully changed the topic and smiled, perking up and leaning over the computer to stare at a file.

“How come you can’t find this guy?” Seven asked, turning to look at the photo we had of Murat.

“I don’t know, One can usually find anyone,” I cleared my throat a bit, and Four looked at me guiltily. “Or, Ex can, I suppose,” I don’t know why the team had thought that One was the person who did all the research, but here we were. “But they just can’t seem to find him. One said Americans caught him a few years back,” Seven’s head turned to look at us at this piece of information, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought of Americans intentionally aiding a dictator in gaining power.

“Americans?” he asked, and Four’s gaze darted around in confusion, probably realizing that it _was_ a bit against the United States’ supposed morals to capture Murat as well.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Said the Americans caught him a few years back and gave him to his brother,” now Four’s brows were pinched together at the thought. “That bald looking fellow,” he gestured to the picture of Rovach we had. Seven turned to stare intensely at the photo, but Four was changing the subject before he could ask another question about the MIA brother.

“You like him though, One? Yeah?” Four asked, and Seven turned back to look at us, glaring at Four in confusion. “Okay, he’s definitely an arsehole, but he’s a likable arsehole, right?” he gazed up at Seven, anxious to hear his opinion of our ‘leader’.

“Nah,” he turned back to the photo of Murat, an unamused expression on his face.

“Well he likes you,” Four continued pushing, and I snorted in amusement, knowing this to be true. Seven rolled his eyes, turning and leaving the camper without another word. Four and I exchanged glances, before I was turning to him.

“Should I lock them in a closet together?” I asked, and he snorted with laughter at the abrupt question.

“Nah,” he shrugged, seeming to think for a moment. “Just get them one of those _This is Our Get Along Shirt_ things,” he suggested, and my eyes lit up at the idea.

“Ooh! Good idea!” I beamed, nudging him as I hopped off the desk. “Scooch your butt,” I demanded, and Four chuckled as I nudged his office chair out of the way to lean over the computer, pulling up Amazon.

“Are you actually?" he asked incredulously, and I nodded.

“Of course!” he simply shook his head in amusement, pressing play on _Leave it to Beaver_ once more. “I hate that show,” I muttered under my breath, finding a good shirt and clicking buy, charging it to one of our ghost accounts and sending it to a PO box near the diner we had visited that day.

“How am I gonna get them into it?” I asked after a moment, turning to Four, and he smirked.

“You could always get us all drunk again,” he suggested. “I mean, I never object to free alcohol, and I’m pretty sure I saw them snuggling when I woke up last time, they’d fallen asleep that way,” he smirked at me, and I blushed, rolling my eyes. 

“I said I was sorry,” I murmured, referring to waking up snuggling into his neck and sitting on his lap.

“And I said it was all good,” he insisted, reaching out to give my hand a quick squeeze before pulling away. “I didn’t mind,” my blush intensified, and I looked away, fingers going back to picking at my cuticles in a nervous tick.

* * *

I found that Four’s advice actually had merit. The next week I had gathered everyone once more for some communal drinking, and waited until One and Seven fell asleep. Of course… I had put something extra in Seven’s beer, to be sure he stayed asleep, though I’m sure he wouldn’t be _too_ mad at me. Unfortunately Three also had the beer, so he was conked out on top of Two, who I was sure would _not_ be happy upon waking up to him on top of her. The things we do for the greater good of the team… and pranking… 

Four helped me maneuver the two to sit up against each other, and we carefully put the shirt on them, slipping One and Seven’s arms through one hole each. We snickered as I snapped a couple of pictures, and then went to our respective husks for some shut eye, having stayed relatively sober for the prank.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to One and Seven shouting.

“What the hell, man?”

“Get the fuck away from me!”

“I can’t!”

“How do we get this thing off?”

“EX!!!!” I laughed maniacally at my elder brother’s enraged shout, printing out multiple copies of each picture so that One couldn’t erase or destroy the evidence if he tried.


	8. VIII: Go Team!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five wants to be better at hand to hand, the guys underestimate Ex, and Three makes some burgers.  
> By the way, what happened in Sicily that makes Ex blush? Well, let's find out.

It was a week or two later when Five approached me.

“Teach me to fight,” she demanded, and I made a noise of confusion as I fell out of my chair, not having heard her approach.

“Motherfucker!” I shouted in surprise as I landed on the ground, glaring up at her. “If you keep sneaking around like that you won’t need to,” I muttered bitterly, and Five just laughed, thrusting a hand out to help me stand. “I thought you knew how to, anyway,” I said, and Five shook her head, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

“Kind of,” she responded with a scowl. “But I’m shit at hand-to-hand,” I nodded at that, smiling.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s go,” I brushed past her, going to where we kept out punching bags and training equipment.

“Right now?” she asked in surprise as she followed me, and I nodded.

“When else?” she shrugged, and we finally came to the husk we used as a training area. I turned to face her, spreading my feet a bit to get in a good fighting stance, and throwing my hands up.

“Alright, let’s see your stance,” I said, and she studied me for a moment, gaze flitting up and down my form, before she attempted to copy me, her arms raising and stance widening a bit. I ‘hmmed’, walking to her and reaching a hand out, nudging her a bit, and she stumbled to the side. “You’re putting too much weight on your right foot,” I told her, and she scowled, adjusting her stance. “Better,” my hand moved to slap lightly at her upper arm. “Keep your elbows tucked in, less of you is exposed that way,” she quickly followed my advice, and I smiled at her. “Good, hit me,” her eyes widened.

“Hit you?” she parrotted, and I nodded.

“Yeah, need to start somewhere,” I shrugged, and she just stared at me.

“But-”

“Hit me,” I cut her off, and her brows furrowed as a scowl overtook her face.

“Fine,” she growled, lunging at me, but I easily sidestepped and tapped her side with the back of my open hand.  
“Keep your elbows in!” I called as she lunged at me again, this time I blocked and hit her again on her opposite side. She snarled, swinging her fist once more at me, and I caught it, twisting her into an armlock before she was really aware of what was happening. “You never swing your punches,” I told her. “It makes you slow and predictable, keep your elbows in and thrust your fist straight, that way your opponent has less reaction time,” she shimmied, trying to get out of my hold, but I simply tightened my grip. “You don’t get out of a hold by squirming,” I admonished her, and she groaned.

“Then how do I?” she asked, and I snorted.

“You’ve got a free arm, and two legs, use them,” she shook once more, trying to loosen my grip, but I kept it tight. Letting out a noise of frustration, she swung her other arm back, hitting my side uselessly, and I chuckled a bit.

“Elbows, your hand can’t reach me at this angle,” I advised, and she quickly thrust her elbow back into my abdomen, winding me and twisting out of my grip. I panted, smiling wide, and tilted my face to look up at her. “Good,” I praised, and she smirked back.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

* * *

So we met every other day for a couple of weeks in the evenings, and I continued to train Five in hand-to-hand combat.

“So why does Three always speak to you in Spanish?” she asked me one day as she swept aside a punch I had aimed at her face. She followed up with a jab to my ribs that I was just able to block in time.

“I understand it, and One doesn’t, so it’s mainly to piss him off,” I explained, kicking my foot up and slipping it under her elbow, getting her in the ribs. She grunted in pain, shaking her head and swinging for me.

“¿Te importa si lo hago yo también? _ (Can I do that too?) _ ” she asked, and I nodded, sidestepping when she threw too much weight into a punch and giving her a quick shove on the shoulder, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“Sure,” I confirmed, giggling at the glare Five sent me. “Don’t throw all your weight into a punch like that until you know your opponent isn’t going anywhere,” I told her, and she groaned but nodded at the advice, pushing herself up off the ground.

“Mind if I join?” we both jumped at the voice coming from the entryway to the husk, spinning to see Two leaning against the wall. I looked at Five with an evil smile.

“Sure thing, Five could do with a different opponent,” Five’s eyes widened as they flicked between Two and me.

“What?” she sputtered, but Two was already pushing herself off the wall and taking off her thin sweater, showing a ratty tank top underneath.

“Okay,” Two shrugged, walking to the center of the husk and getting in a fighting stance. I stepped to the side, patting Five’s shoulder on the way to sit on a stool.

“Good luck!” I chimed at her, smiling and ignoring the fiery glare she sent my way.

“Let’s go already!” Two called, and Five whipped around to face her. The women began to fight, with me calling out critiques and praises to Five.

“Have they taught you about sweeping yet?” Two asked, and Five hummed in confusion.

“No, I-” before she could finish her train of thought, Two had swept her legs out from under her and her back hit the ground with a heavy thud, causing Five to gasp for air as she struggled to regain her breath. I walked over, helping Five sit up and handing her a water bottle. “What the hell?” she spat at Two once she was able to actually speak, and the French woman just shrugged, an amused glint in her eyes.

“Well now you know,” she said, and Five rolled her eyes.

“Know what?”

“Your adversaries aren’t just going to kick, they’re going to try to knock you down,” Two informed her, and Five nodded at the advice. 

* * *

After that it was a pretty common thing for Two to join in on Five and my sparring sessions. It surprised me to find out that Two and I were pretty evenly matched, with the first time we fought lasting a lot longer than any of us anticipated. Five ended up calling the others in and taking bets.

“There’s no way they can outlast Two,” Seven said confidently, placing a $50 bet on Two. I smirked at the underestimation.

“I hate to agree with him,  _ chica _ ,” Three called over to me as I saw him hand Five another $50. “But I’ll bet on Two,”

“I think Ex can handle her,” Four chimed in, and I smiled widely, ignoring the urge to look over at him and keeping all my attention on Two. 

“One?” Five asked, and I could hear my brother scoff.

“Two, definitely,” I scowled at my brother’s lack of confidence in my abilities. Two however was grinning as she kept up with a flurry of jabs and punches towards me. As a CIA agent, I knew she would be looking to end the fight quickly, and she was definitely not used to long drawn out fights, so she wouldn’t be anticipating me picking up on her moves during the first fight. So I settled on playing defense for a while, seeing how she favored keeping her right foot in back in case she wanted to kick, as that seemed to be her favored leg, and the subtle twitch of her left shoulder that showed a lot of tension underneath.

“Come on, Two!” Seven cheered, and she smirked, lunging at me once more with her left arm, expecting me to block and back away, as I had been doing, but instead I crowded her, blocking and stepping up to her so we were almost chest to chest. I grabbed her wrist as I saw her eyes widen, trying to pull her arm away, and began to twist it, jabbing quickly at a pressure point on her shoulder that would cause it to seize up. She let out a shout of surprise as her face flinched at the pain, and before she could reassess the situation I had swept her legs from under her, pinning her with a knee on the center of her back and my foot on her free arm, preventing her from using it against me.

“Is anyone counting?” I called after a couple moments of Two struggling underneath me, and I heard Four’s smug voice start.

“One. Two. Three! Four! FIVE!” he cheered as he reached Five, and Two slumped in defeat as I stood and swung my leg off of her.

“There’s no way they can outlast Two,” I mocked Seven as I walked towards the rest of the group, smirking at the awed looks on he and Three’s faces. I squealed when Four scooped me up in a hug, all of a sudden.

“I knew you could do it!” he cheered, lifting me off the ground and spinning as I squirmed.

“Four!” I giggled despite myself, squirming to try and get my feet back on the ground. “Put me down!” I demanded, and he just laughed at me, spinning me around in another circle before he finally heeded my request, placing me on the ground once more and placing a quick kiss on my forehead.

“Congrats, love,” he smiled at me, and I blushed, smiling back but averting my gaze. That was a mistake, however, when I caught sight of my brother’s icy glare directed at Four’s back. I coughed awkwardly, stepping away from him and going to Five.

“So I get a cut, right?” I asked, and she nodded, dividing the $200 that had ended up in the pot between her, Four, and myself. I snatched a water bottle and walked out of the husk with a smile on my face, hearing someone follow me.

“¿Dónde aprendiste a luchar así? _ (Where did you learn to fight like that?) _ ” Three asked as I went to the camper that served as our kitchen.

“I’ve been training in martial arts since I was a kid,” I told him, and he nodded, his longer legs easily catching up so he could walk by my side.

“Estás lleno de sorpresas, chica! _ (You’re full of surprises, girl!) _ ” he laughed, patting me on the back, and I smiled up at him. 

“Can’t let things get boring around here, can I?” I countered, and he nodded, throwing a companionable arm around my shoulder as we reached our kitchen.

“¿Qué quieres comer? _ (What do you want to eat?) _ ” he asked me, motioning for me to sit down, which I did, plopping onto a beanbag and sighing in relief of getting off my feet as I sank down into it. “Voy a cocinar, _ (I’ll cook) _ ” he offered, and I raised my head to look at him sceptically.

“Do you know how?” I asked, and he scoffed, shooting me a glare.

“¿Sé cómo? _ (Do I know how?) _ ,” he parrotted mockingly, placing a sassy hand on his hip. “Por supuesto que sé cocinar! _ (Of course I know how to cook!) _ ” he glared at me as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “¿Qué quieres? _ (What do you want?) _ ” he asked again, and I thought for a moment.

“Can you make burgers?” I asked after a moment of thought, and Three scoffed once more.

“Claro, _ (Obviously) _ ” he said, turning and rooting for the fridge for some burgers. “¿Algo más? _ (Anything else?) _ ”

“No, gracias, _ (No, thank you) _ ” I smiled at him, and he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, turning and grabbing a pan and starting the stove.

After Three had finished making burgers for us, he placed the plates down, and Four came in.

“Burgers? Awesome!” he went to grab one, but Three smacked his hand away.

“Make your own damn burgers,  _ cabrón _ ,” he grumbled, and Four held a hand to his heart, putting on a hurt face.

“Awe, come on mate, please?” 

“No!” Three’s arm came to rest on the table between Four and his burgers, and I giggled. That ended up being a mistake as Four turned his attention to me, throwing some puppy eyes my way.

“Ex?”

“No lo hagas, chica, _ (Don’t do it, girl) _ ,” Three growled at me, and I bit my lip, casting my gaze away from Four and to my own burgers. I picked one up, deciding ignoring him was my best bet, but Four gasped as if I had mortally wounded him.

“After Florence, this is what I get?” he mocked, and I blushed. “I thought we had something special, love!” I could feel Three’s questioning gaze and the heat rising to my cheeks, so I quickly shoved the last burger towards Four, keeping the one I had picked up.

“Just take the damn burger,” I muttered grumpily, and Four beamed at me, plopping down next to me and planting a friendly kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks, love!” he chimed, digging in, and I rolled my eyes, thinking back to the mentioned mission as I began to eat my burger.

* * *

“Alright, our lawyer is attending this fancy party up in Sicily, tomorrow night,” One said once everyone was assembled. “We’re gonna get in, I’m gonna set up a meeting with him, and then we’ll get the hell out,”

“That simple, huh?” I teased, and he glared at me.

“Two, you’ll be coming as my plus one, a cousin or something, we’ll figure it out,” One looked to the blonde, who nodded at her cover. “Ex, Four, you two will be there as backup in case things go to shit,”

“What’re our covers?” Four asked, and One smirked at me, causing an uneasy feeling to settle in my stomach.

“Let me set them up,”

* * *

“Married?!” I shouted at One once I read the file he had given me, containing Four and I’s identities for the night.

“Yep,” he popped the p, smirking as he looked between Four and I. “Reduces unwanted attention,” he shrugged at my glare, and I blushed, knowing that he was just doing this to mess with me.

“Fine,” I grumbled, turning and heading to Five and I’s shared hotel room to get ready, while Four headed for the room he was sharing with Six.

“Are you good at makeup?” I asked Five as I glared at the cosmetics set out on the vanity in front of me. The doctor just smirked.

* * *

“You clean up nice,” Four complimented when I met him in the lobby, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Thanks,” I muttered, blushing and glancing down at my outfit. One had bought a sleeveless deep blue evening gown for me to wear to the party, with a modest slit going up to just below my mid thigh. Four nudged me with his elbow, and I glanced at him in question. He just flitted his gaze to his arm as a hint and then back ahead of us, to the town car we were taking to the event which was set to leave a couple minutes after One and Two. I gasped as I got his hint, awkwardly scrambling to loop my arm through his, and he smirked at me.

“Come on, love, no need to be nervous,” he teased as we began to slowly walk out of the hotel, watching One and Two’s town car pull out. “We are married, after all,” he reminded me, and my blush worsened.

“Right,” I agreed absentmindedly. “Married,” How was I supposed to pull this evening off pretending I was married to Four? He opened the door for me, and I pointedly avoided his gaze as I thanked him and got in the back of the town car, Four following after me and sitting closer than was strictly necessary once he closed the door.

“Hey,” he called, nudging my thigh with his hand, and I looked up at him. “I’m gonna put my arm around you, alright?” he warned, and I made a noise of confusion as he looped his arm around my shoulders.

“Why? We’re not at the party yet?” I asked, but leaned into his side anyways.

“I’m trying to… you know,” he paused, as if searching for the right words. “Get you comfortable with physical affection from me, you can’t look surprised or uncomfortable at the party if we’re supposed to be married,” he explained, and I hummed.

“That makes sense, I suppose,” I relaxed further into him, tilting my head to face him, figuring that eye contact this close up was also a thing I should get used to.

“Not so bad, right?” he asked with a gentle grin, and I nodded, smiling softly in return.

“Not so bad,” I responded, and we spent the rest of the ride in silence. Four would occasionally move his hand from my shoulder to my side, rubbing gentle circles of comfort, and I found that I actually kind of enjoyed the affection. The car pulled up to the party, which was being held at some manor just outside of the city of Sicily, and the door was opened by a snooty looking valet. Four and I both smiled widely, and Four got out first before offering me his hand, which I took as I got out of the car.

“Ready, darling?” he asked, and I ignored the flutter in my stomach at the new pet name.

“Of course, sweetie,” I responded with a forced giggle, looping my arm through his as we entered the building. I almost immediately spotted One and Two, who were up on a balcony slightly to the left, moseying their way towards the target. I leaned in to place a kiss on Four’s cheek. “See them?” I muttered in his ear with a smile, and he smirked back at me, giving a subtle nod. We made our way across the room slowly, keeping One and Two in our view, and passed by a refreshment table.

“Drinks?” Four asked, and I nodded.

“Of course,” I smirked at him as he grabbed two flutes of champagne, handing me one.

The evening passed by with Four and I cracking jokes to each other about the various snooty rich socialites hanging about the party from the safety of the side of the dance floor.

“How many plastic surgeries do you think she’s had?” he asked me, gesturing towards one of the many trophy wives attending the event, and I snorted.

“Counting just the visible ones, 3,” I snickered, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Visible ones?”

“Nose job, boob job, facelift,” I listed, and he nodded with a smirk.

“Does the botox count?”

“Nah,”

“Fair enough,”

“Ex! Four!” One’s whispered voice crackled in our ears, and we exchanged glances. I tapped my earpiece.

“What is it?”

“We might need help by the back entrance,”

“On our way,” I responded, and Four I quickly snuck out of the party and towards the aforementioned back entrance.

“Crisis averted,” One said once we made it there, and I groaned.

“Seriously?”

“Just get back to the party without being seen,” he said, and Four and I exchanged another look of annoyance before slowly making our way back to the event hall. My eyes widened when I saw a group of four or five guards headed our way around a corner, shoving Four back the way we came.

“There’s a bunch of guys coming our way,” I whispered to him, and he nodded, crowding me against a wall.

“Act natural,” he whispered, and I hummed in confusion before we both fell silent, listening for the footfalls of the approaching guards. They turned the corner, and Four quickly leaned down, capturing my lips in a heated kiss, one of his hands gripping my thigh and the other gripping my side just below my breast. I let out a squeak before I realized what he was doing, quickly responding to the kiss with just as much passion, hearing a guard gasp before they turned, beginning to walk away.

“Are they gone yet?” I asked between kisses, keeping my voice low, and Four glanced towards them before shaking his head, going back to kissing me, letting out an erotic groan, probably for show to make the guards even more uncomfortable. I responded with a soft whimper as he bit my lips, and I wish I could say that the noise was also for show, but I found myself genuinely lost in the kiss.

Four’s hand on my side shifted a bit, and I felt his thumb stroke the bottom of my breast, causing my to release a soft moan. We both knew that the guards couldn’t see his hand, but we kept up with the act, neither of us wanting to end the kiss quite yet. 

“Guys, where are you?” we snapped apart at One’s voices, coughing and brushing our clothes out.

“We’re coming, had to avoid some guards,” Four said for me, since I was still a blushing, stuttering mess. We made the walk back in silence, and if One could sense anything, he didn’t indicate it besides shooting me a teasing wink. He was so dead after this…


	9. IX: Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was Two recruited?

Camille leaned over her desk, ready to shout at her boss, but he cut her off over the phone.

“Camille,” he called. “I get you hate this, but sometimes you gotta put bad guys on thrones,” she sighed angrily, knowing she would have to go through with the orders regardless of how much she begged. These decisions were made miles above her.

“Just do your job,” the director commanded, and she closed her eyes in frustration, willing the angry tears away.

* * *

So that is how she found herself in Western Uzbekistan, leaning against a black sedan in a white flowing outfit. There was a caravan of white cars flanking a yellow lamborghini, and Camille brought her hand to her ear as she heard the sound of approaching helicopters, speaking into her comms.

“No one touch, he’s mine,” she demanded, and then the ground troops were closing in, shooting at the caravan. The cars all skidded to a stop, men stepping out of the white cars with guns, only to be gunned down by the fifty Americans with machine guns waiting for them. Camille pushed herself off the car when she saw Murat run past the soldiers, his bodyguards not standing a chance. She began to walk to meet him, and when he got close enough she punched him straight in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. He looked up at her in anger, holding up a finger from the ground, not bothering to get up off his back.

“I was assured by  _ your _ state department-” he began angrily, and Camille cut him off.

“I’m from a different department,” she spat down at him, no happier with the raid than he was.

“God, CIA,” Murat groaned, his eyes closing in the sheer frustration of American agencies and their lack of communication.

“I’ve come to deliver you to your brother,” Camille informed him, and Murat shook his head, his voice tired as he tried to argue.

“You don’t know my brother,” he insisted. “Rovach is a monster! He will violate every single principle your nation holds dear!” he grinned sarcastically as he told her, and Camille sighed, crouching down in front of him and slipping her sunglasses off, lowering her voice.

“I begged the director not to do this, Murat,” she told him, seeing his head tilt in confusion as he peered up at her. “Begged,” she repeated, angrily standing and storming back to the sedan, allowing the waiting soldiers to manhandle Murat into an armored vehicle. She shifted the car into drive, peeling away and driving back to their base, not bothering to wait for the vehicle Murat was in. “They never listen,” she groaned, slamming her fist against the wheel.

* * *

It was almost exactly a year later when Camille found herself being given another immoral mission. She was complacent, knowing what happened to assets like her when they resigned. They knew too much to be allowed to just retire, instead they were exterminated. She had found herself being forced to exterminate her seniors a couple of times before, and she refused to suffer the same fate. She would die on a mission, not because the CIA thought she would speak to WikiLeaks or something.

She had gone to the nearest bar after receiving the mission brief. She had a couple of days until she had to leave, and she intended to drink enough to forget her own name, let alone the mission, that night. She flung herself into a barstool, ordering a brandy, and a petite female sitting near her spoke up, swirling the bourbon in their glass.

“It sucks, doesn’t it?” they asked, and Camille tensed, her hand lowering to her side arm, as she glared at the person.

“What does?” she asked, and the person turned to face her fully, allowing her to see the grey eyes and sad smile on their face.

“Putting bad guys on thrones,” the person said, and Camille’s eyes widened at the exact words that had been said to her before capturing Murat being parrotted by this stranger.

“Who are you?” she demanded, shoulders squaring in preparation for a fight, and the person shrugged.

“Someone who is trying to dethrone said bad guys,” they answered vaguely, and Camille’s brows pinched together, getting closer to the person and pulling out a knife subtly. She pressed it to the person’s side, but they didn’t even flinch.

“I just want to help you get out,” they said, and Camille scoffed.

“Nobody just ‘gets out’” she spat, and the person shook their head.

“Not if they survive,” Camille’s head tilted in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“What if you died on a mission?” the person continued. “They wouldn’t look for you, you’d be dead,” they smiled at Camille, and the frenchwoman simply shook her head.

“You’re crazy,”

“That I am,” the person smirked, eyes flashing as she peered into Camille’s. “But I think you are, too,” Camille stared at the person, trying to figure out their angle, before she slumped against the bar, shooting back her brandy.

“What do you propose?” she finally grit out, and the stranger grinned.

“You’re gonna die on this mission,” they said, and Camille reared back.

“What?”

“Not literally, of course,” the person was quick to assure her. They stood, throwing some cash on the counter before turning and beginning to walk out of the bar. “Come with me,” Camille sighed, but followed the person, confident in her abilities to handle the stranger should this become a danger to her. The stranger led her to a motorcycle before tossing her a helmet.

“My name’s Ex, they/them pronouns” they introduced as they put their own on. Camille followed suit. “I obviously know who you are,” they swung their leg over the bike, revving it, and Camille hopped on behind them, arms gripping their sides. Camille was surprised to find a headset in the helmet, allowing them to talk as they zipped down the highway towards the middle of nowhere.

“We’re gonna draw some blood today, tomorrow, and then we’ll draw more on the mission,” Ex explained as she took an exit ramp, taking them further into the desert. “We’re gonna get 7 pints in all over the next week and a half, and when we have enough blood, we’re gonna cover some of your clothes, smash your phone, and be off,” Camille’s brows furrowed at the simplicity.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ex chuckled. “They won’t bother looking for your body with that much blood,”

“And why am I dying?” Camille asked. “I’m assuming you’re not just helping me leave the CIA for nothing?”

“You assume correctly,” Ex confirmed, taking a turn at an abandoned gas station. “We’re gonna take down Rovach,” they said, causing Camille to gasp in surprise. “Among some other evil bastards,” they slowed the motorcycle to a stop as they came to what looked like a husk of a plane.

“How do you plan to do that?” Camille asked as they dismounted. Ex took their helmet off, shaking out their short hair, and Camille did the same, glad her hair was in a ponytail.

“We put together a team,” Ex said as if it was obvious, leading Camille into the husk. Camille jumped when she saw a tall blonde man waiting for them.

“Hi!” he said cheerily, standing and giving Ex a hug before pulling away quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m One!”

“One?” Camille repeated, looking over at Ex with a raised eyebrow.

“When you become a ghost, you can’t be Camille anymore,” Ex explained. “You’ll go by Two, and the other ghosts will all have their own numbers, for your own safety,” they told her, and Camille nodded.

“Makes sense, I suppose,” she said, and Ex smiled at her.

“Of course!” they gestured towards a chair, and Camille sat, flinching when Ex held a needle up.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”


	10. X: Viva Las Vegas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one thing that really bugged me about 6 Underground was the continuity errors. For example, the car chase scene in Florence? The car looses a mirror and then suddenly has the mirror again. The door knob in Vegas was less of a continuity error and more of a plot hole, but I fixed it :)  
> I also apologize for any Spanish I got wrong. Like Ex, I understand it but don't speak it, so I need to use google translate and I usually ask my Tumblr friend who helps me with that shit only if I'm not sure which word to use since two have the same meaning.

Three happened to be monitoring the mic on Rovach’s cell phone when Vegas was mentioned as part of an arms deal. I was sitting on a table across the room while Five rewrapped my wrist, which I had sprained sparring with Two a couple of days before. We both jumped when Three laughed jovially, throwing his headset down and looking up at us.

“We’re going to Vegas baby!” he cheered, raising a fist and pumping it excitedly. Five and I exchanged confused glances.

“Um… what?” I asked after a moment of waiting for him to explain on his own.

“Los cuatros generales van a ir a Las Vegas! _ (The four generals are going to Las Vegas!) _ ” he told us excitedly, and for a moment I feared his grin would literally split his cheeks. He stood and sent his chair toppling over with a thud, before he ran out of the husk.

“Where are you going?” Five shouted after him, and he laughed as he called a response over his shoulder.

“Necesito decírselo a Uno! _ (I need to tell One!) _ ” he shouted, and Five and I exchanged another look before sputtering into fits of giggles.

“I guess we’re going to Vegas,” I got out between giggles, and Five nodded.

“Al parecer, _ (Apparently) _ ” she agreed, and I huffed as she returned to wrapping my wrist, knotting the bandage before gesturing for me to get off the table.

“I’m gonna go get some food,” she announced after she gave my wrist a final look over, and walked out of the husk after Three. I hummed in acknowledgement as she walked out before grabbing my laptop. I hopped back on the table as soon as Five was gone, sitting cross legged and opening up my laptop. Chairs were for normal people. I pulled up my secure email server and started emailing, anonymously of course, some contacts in Vegas where we could get the weapons and other supplies we would need. It was always better to get the supplies where the op would be, leaving less of a trail to follow.

I heard a  _ clack _ , and looked up at the back entry of the husk, seeing Four who had just returned from… whatever he was doing. He plopped his skateboard down and made his way over to me, sweat causing strands of his hair to cling to his forehead, and he looked like he was still catching his breath from skateboarding back. He smiled wide, leaning over me and trying to peer at my computer screen, which I angled away from his view.

“Hey,” he greeted, still trying to see my screen, and I closed it halfway, shooting him a warning glare.

“Hey nosey,” I muttered, and he shot me a faux apologetic pout, backing up.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, sitting up on the table with me but thankfully making no attempt to look at my screen this time. I agreed with One in general about the name thing, the less people knew the better off we were, but I still thought the team should at least be able to know the names of their fellow ghosts.

“Contacting some plugs in Vegas,” I responded, opening my screen back up and continuing to type. Four sputtered.

“Plugs?” he asked, and I furrowed my brows in confusion, looking at him.

“Yeah, plugs,” I answered as if he was slow. “They’ve got our supplies for the op,” I explained, and he breathed out softly.

“Oh,” he muttered.

“What did yo-”

“The op’s in Vegas?” we spoke at the same time, and he chuckled, motioning for me to go first. I blushed bright pink, looking back to my laptop to avoid staring too long at his smile.

“What did you think I meant by plugs?” I asked, trying to think of what he could have possibly thought. “Did you think I meant like butt plugs or something?” he coughed violently, averting his gaze.

“No!” he shouted. “That is  _ so _ much worse than what I was thinking,” he cringed at the thought, and I giggled, shrugging. 

“Well then what  _ were _ you thinking?” I asked again.

“I thought you meant plugs for drugs or shit,” he said, and I scoffed.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be doing drugs in Vegas,” I responded with a smirk, hitting **send** on an email. “Too many things that could go wrong,”

“So you would do drugs somewhere else?” he teased, and I shrugged.

“Depends on the drugs,” I said, and his eyes widened at me. “What?”

“I just thought you’d… you don’t seem like…” he trailed off, trying to word it unoffensively.

“What?” I giggled. “I seem like the type to turn my nose up at illicit substances?” he snickered.

“Especially when you call them  _ illicit substances _ ,” he teased, and I blushed, rolling my eyes.

“I’ve been known to smoke weed, on occasion,” I mumbled defensively. “Nothing else though,”

“Do you know where we could get some?” Four asked excitedly, a glint in his eye, and I nodded.

“I’ve lived in this fucking desert for going on 6 years, of course I know where we can get weed,” I smirked. “We’ll get some when we get back. Plus, it’s not like it’s illegal in California, we just need some fake ID,” Four beamed, giving me a one armed side hug.

“Which is illegal,” he smirked before leaning in and pecking my cheek. “Can’t wait, love,” he said, and I blushed brightly. After a moment I turned into him, leaning against him a bit as I closed my laptop.

“What were you asking?”

“The op’s in Vegas?” he smiled, and I nodded.

“Three just found out,” 

“Fantastic,” he smirked, and I found that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the motive for the mischievous look in his eyes.

* * *

“Viktor, Vegas, Viceroy,” One said once we had all gathered. I giggled a bit at the alliteration, and he smirked playfully. “General Garioff, lots of consonants, so we’ll make this easy: the little fat one,” he swiped on the screen, pulling up some pictures we had of the general. “He’s the handler of Rovach’s baby brother,” he gestured for me to continue the brief, so I stepped up.

“Las Vegas has more facial recognition software than any place on Earth,” I said, pulling up a blueprint of the Viceroy with little red dots for every security camera in the facility. The only places that were completely out of view from cameras were the bathrooms. Three smiled, smacking his hand on the desk. “If any of us gets recognized, it’ll be easier for us to get caught going anywhere after,”

“Oh, I know what I’m gonna be!” he said excitedly, and One leaned in.

“Choose your disguises wisely,” he stressed, and Three puffed up in agitation.

“I’m a grown man, I can handle my shit,” he spat, and One glared at him.

“I don’t think that’s how the expression goes,” he countered. “Don’t handle your shit, flush it down the toilet like a grown ass man,” Three’s gaze narrowed in offense. “Be subtle, blend in, disappear!” 

“You’ll need facial augmentations, that rubber Hollywood shit,” I said before One and Three could really get into it, as they were apt to do. “Come to me for that,”

* * *

A little later Two and Three were with me in our tech room, and I was showing them how to put on the facial augmentations. Two had used them before, so it wasn’t incredibly difficult for her. Three was fiddling with one of my sniper rifles while I measured Two’s face.

“Kill them all?” he asked, and Two smirked.

“M-hmm,” she confirmed, and Three smiled back.

“Love it,” he whispered, looking down the sight and pretending to snipe off the generals. I giggled a bit.

* * *

Three and Two were some weird ass tennis players. Not my style, I mean obviously not theirs either but for a disguise? I had to admit, however, I had really outdone myself with Two’s facial augmentations. If her face was recognized, the software would immediately flag the CIA and the Viceroy would be swarming with suits before we had even gotten to the Generals, so she had to be extra careful. One and I were bikers, which wasn’t hard for me, I already had the outfit. I had a fake nose and fake brow ridge, while One grew out some extra facial hair and slapped on a fake nose and wig.

Four, Five, and Seven were our back up, staying at a motel outside the city. Four had not been happy with that.

“You mean I don’t even get to go to Vegas?” he whined, and One shook his head.

“Nope,”

“You suck the fun out of everything,” Four muttered moodily, ignoring the heated glare One sent his way for that comment.

* * *

One and I stationed ourselves by the racetrack, where we had a view of the rendezvous point between Viktor and the Generals. The Generals seemed four sheets to the wind already, if what Two and Three said while they walked through the gambling floor was anything to go by. One turned on our listening device, and I snickered, hearing the Generals arguing about what type of car would win. Viktor was remaining serious, though.

“You don’t see gas of this quality,” he was saying. “It’s US Army, experimental sarin gas for testing antidotes, whatever’s left over they bury in the desert. Now, I can procure it,” he raised his voice slightly to keep the Generals’ attention. “But you take delivery here, and  _ no _ middlemen!” he demanded. The Generals agreed, standing and shaking his hand before Viktor left their box.

“How hard do you think it was for Viktor to keep a straight face?” I murmured to One, and he scoffed out a chuckle.

“Have you seen the guy? I don’t think he knows what a smile is,” he muttered back, prompting me to giggle.

* * *

I was very glad that Two and Three were the ones actually carrying out the op, because the best time to break in was when the five prostitutes Viktor sent were showing the Generals a good time. I have no problem with sex workers, but the things the Generals were saying were disgusting… and the fact that we were going to kill the Generals while they were there was really unfortunate. Talk about traumatizing.

“They’re almost at the suite,” I said, looking at the security cameras on my phone, seeing Two and Three striding down the hallway. One hummed in acknowledgement. Two stopped to stretch, and Three knocked on the door with the butt of his gun. The first General came to the door, and Three shot him right through the peephole before lowering his gun and shooting the knob. I smirked slightly, remembering the smiley face sticker Three had put on the barrel of his gun. They quickly dragged the body away from the foyer, Two closing the door behind them. She went to the bathroom, where I was pretty sure General number three had passed out or something, he had gone in there almost half an hour earlier. Three went to the living room, where most of the prostitutes were with General number two, who was blowing smoke rings with his cigar.

Three shot him through his cigar, and I smiled a bit.

“Nice aim,” I murmured, and One glanced at my screen. Two exited the bathroom, and I assumed General three was dead. “Let’s go,” I said, shutting off my phone and shoving it in my leather jacket’s pocket. One nodded, leading the way to the elevator. We got to the suite quickly, seeing four of the five prostitutes tied up in the living room. We turned down a hallway where we could hear Two speaking in Turkmen to General Garioff.

“-deal is done!” he was trying to reason with her as we walked into the room, and I cringed at the site of the prostitute under him, poor girl. “Two tons of sarin gas,”

“Where you keeping Rovach’s brother?” One asked, and confusion flashed over the General’s face. He had obviously thought we were here about the deal.

“What?”

“You got three seconds. Be specific,” One demanded, and the General’s mouth quivered. “No! Don’t think! Don’t think, talk!” his eyes closed in distress. “Three… two…”

“Ni Hai Tower!” the general grit out, his accent rough around the words, it was a miracle he even pronounced them. “Uh... in Hong Kong, penthouse,” he raised his hand to signal the top floor, and One nodded, turning to Three. 

“One,” Three shot the general, and the woman who was under his gasped, beginning to cry. Three avoided looking at her, picking some lint off of his jacket, and One smiled in faux sympathy. “Could be worse, ya know, he could’ve finished,” I slapped him on the back of the head for the insensitive comment, and he glared at me. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head before turning to Three and Two. “Good work. I said undercover, not coked up…” he thought for a moment. “Borg and McEnroe,” he pushed off the dresser he was leaning against and began to walk out. “I hate this town, I really do,” I snickered, remembering a particular business deal gone bad before our ‘deaths’ that would lead him to hate Vegas. He shot me a glower. “Shut up,”

“No, it’s Navratilova!” Three called after one as he walked out. “She’s a woman tennis player,” he raised his voice so One heard him as he got further away. “Your costume’s stupid, too! Motorcycle dick,” I glared at Three.

“I’m  _ actually _ a biker,” I muttered, and he shot me an apologetic look.

“Discúlpame, tú no, _ (Sorry, not you) _ ” he said in apology, and I rolled my eyes, leaving the suite after one, deciding that Two and Three could handle the clean up.

I did, however, reattach the doorknob Three shot off to the door, so the suite wouldn’t look too suspicious to passers by.

“We’re lucky this suite is so isolated,” I muttered, the sound of the drill deafening.

I caught up to One just as he hit the call button for the car garage elevator. “They’re definitely gonna fuck,” I snickered once we were in the elevator, and One looked at me, surprised.

“What?”

“It’s obvious,” I shrugged. “They’ll probably take advantage of that suite, ya know?” One’s eyes narrowed.

“I should shut that down,” he muttered, and I slapped him on the back of the head again.

“You should do no such thing!” I shouted, and he winced. “Let them have some fun, cock blocking jerk,” he rolled his eyes, but listened.


	11. XI: Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Three was recruited

Javier sighed as he opened the car door, running a hand down his face.

_ “I won’t speak to Javi anymore, he’s a murderer,” his mother spat at him. _

Her voice rang in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his face up.

“I’m trying, mamá,” he muttered, getting into the drivers seat.

* * *

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” the man pleaded, his hands raising as he backed away, coming to a stop as his heels hit the edge of the pool. Javi tilted his head, whipping his sunglasses off.

“No I do,” he countered, his voice devoid of any emotion. “My job,” he raised the gun, asking a question but the man had no time to answer before Javier squeezed the trigger, shooting him twice in the chest. He fell back into the pool with a splash, and Javi stared at the body for a moment.

“Daddy?” the voice of a young girl called, and Javier’s eyes widened as he whipped around, his heart squeezing painfully when he saw a small girl in pink pajamas holding a teddy bear in one hand. “I can’t sleep,” she said, before seeing Javier. Neither of them moved for a few tense seconds, as she just looked up at Javier in trepidation and confusion. He moved the gun behind his leg, hiding it from her view. “Daddy?” she called once more, and Javier almost found himself cringing. He looked to the sky.  _ What do you say to a little girl asking for her father, who you just murdered? _

“He’s not here,” he finally said, looking back to the girl. “Where’s your mom?”

“I don’t have a mommy,” she replied, and Javier felt his eyes well up, licking his lips as he looked around, trying to decide what to do.

“Go back inside,” he finally commanded, his voice cracking, and the girl tilted her head at him. “Maybe he’s in there,” he added, hating himself even more with every syllable coming out of his mouth. The girl stared at him for a moment, and he stared back. Finally she turned, with one last look around the yard, and one last studying glance at Javier, and went back inside. Javier ran as soon as she was out of sight, hopping into the car he had used for the job and peeling away, his breaths coming short and heavy. He pulled over a payphone, the girl eating at his conscience. He didn’t want her to find her dad’s body. He already knew he’d placed her in the system, killing her only guardian, he didn’t want to add that trauma on top of it.

“There’s been a murder,” he breathed into the phone after dialling 9-1-1. He gave them the address before aggressively hanging up and hopping back into the car. He furiously drove to a motel a little outside of town, where he had set up shop for the past week, wiping away some stray tears as he drove. The cross around his neck felt as if it was burning into the skin of his chest, like it was telling him he didn’t deserve to wear it, not with the things he’s done.

Javier was still wiping away tears when he pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Thankfully the entrance to his room was outdoors, so he wouldn’t have to walk through the lobby with red rimmed eyes and tear streaks down his cheeks. He entered his room and sank down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He felt the tears beginning to build up even more, his vision blurring as sobs wracked his body. In utter agony, Javier reached to the chain around his neck, tugging at it furiously until it snapped, and he flung the cross onto the bedside table.

“You must feel stuck,” a female voice piped up from the corner of the room, and Javier didn’t even move, his head hanging in despair as tears continued rolling down his face. “Like you can only watch as your soul sinks further down into hell,” Javier didn’t move.

“If you’ve come to kill me, get it over with,” he spat, remaining on the bed, his body tensed as he waited for a shot, or a knife, but nothing came.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” the person said after a moment of Javier waiting for them to kill him, and he made a noise of confusion, finally looking up and towards the voice coming from the corner of the room. He was surprised by what he saw. A short curvy female, with grey eyes and short dirty blonde hair, wrapped in a pale blue sundress.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, staring at them in puzzlement.

“Ex,” they answered, smiling slightly. “They/them,” Javier tilted his head at them, thinking it odd that they would introduce their pronouns at this moment.

“What do you want?” he asked, and Ex stood, approaching him slowly, as he was a wild animal who they didn’t want to spook.

“I want to save your soul,” they said, smiling brightly. “Help you stop the shitty cycle you’re in, and start doing some good,” Javier scoffed.

“You’re a little late,” he muttered forlornly, looking down once more as the little girl’s wide brown eyes flashed in his head. “There’s nothing I can do to make up for what I’ve done,”

“Well would toppling an evil dictatorship put a dent in it?” they countered, and Javier’s eyes widened as his head snapped back up.

“What?” he sputtered.

“My associate and I are putting together a team,” they explained. “Seven people, and we’re gonna put a stop to some evil shit,” Javier’s brows furrowed.

“How do you plan to do that?” Ex smirked.

“We die, of course,” Javier’s eyes widened.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he shook his head, and Ex just continued to smirk at him.

“I suppose,” they shrugged. “But I’m not talking about  _ actually _ dying, dumb dumb,” they teased, and Javier’s face pinched in indignation. “We fake your death, so anyone who would be after you would stop looking for you, and you become untraceable. Who would look for a dead guy?” Javier’s eyes widened.

“That works?”

“It worked for me, and the other two we have on the team so far,” they smiled, and Javi only had to think for a moment.

“I’m in,”

* * *

Javier let out a shout of surprise as he caught a glimpse of One in the rearview mirror.

“You and your Bruce Wayne shit!” he snarled angrily. He was unnerved however, when One’s face and voice remained devoid of anything.

“Boo,” One muttered, and Javi felt a gun pressed to the side of his head. “One rule,” he said, leaning forward. “One rule,” he repeated, and Javi sighed, defeated.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone,” he tried defending his actions. “She doesn’t even remember my name!”

“So she’ll never know you stopped coming,” One countered. “See, you’re lucky I don’t paint the inside of this car with chunks of your fucking skull,” Javier’s face twisted in revulsion.

“Jesus, who raised you, the mob?” he snarked.

“That’s none of your fucking business, Three,” One shot back. “We sacrificed everything to be a part of this,” suddenly his voice took a more cheerful tone as Javi felt the gun lifted from the side of his skull. “Honor it, respect it, it’s all we got,” One said as a parting mantra, opening the car door and leaving Javi to his thoughts.

* * *

Faking his death had been easy enough. He was sent on a ‘hit’ that was arranged by Ex and One, and they left spatters of his blood as if he had been beaten, much like with Two. They staged it like a hit gone bad, with a blood trail leading from where he was ‘beaten’ to a parking lot outside, where someone drove off with his body. Nobody looked for him.


	12. XII: Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What about Four? What's his story?

One and Seven had just gone over the plan to get into Hong Kong unnoticed, and the crew of ghosts were all working on loading up the plane. 

“Hey One!” Seven called as we were loading up the final bags. One had walked ahead of the group, and he barely turned his head to acknowledge Seven’s call. “You ever plan on calling me Six?” he asked, and Four noticed Ex cringe out of the corner of his eye.

“No,” One called back, adjusting the strap of his backpack. Most of the group nodded, knowing that this time they all would’ve had the same answer for him. Seven wasn’t Six, and he never would be, because Six was at the bottom of the Arno river just outside of Florence.

“Okay,” Seven shrugged, turning his head from side to side to look at the rest of the ghosts as One rushed even further ahead. “So, I know we’re not supposed to ask-” he began, and Three glanced over at him.

“Then don’t,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes underneath his sunglasses. Seven continued as if Three hadn’t spoken at all.

“But uh, who is One?” he asked, and Four noticed Ex averting their gaze, keeping silent as they tended to do whenever the topic came up. He figured that Ex had also recruited One, and kept silent to respect his privacy. Seven looked around, seeing the shrugs from the team. “Who is he?” he repeated, and Five shrugged again.

“A rich guy who snapped,” she said. “That’s all I got,” Seven nodded.

“Yeah, but how did you meet him?” he pressed, and Four shook his head.

“We didn’t,” he spoke up. “He met us, in  _ really  _ weird ways,” Ex smirked from their place walking next to him, and Four rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Two agreed, glancing at me. “With Ex,” the group turned to look at Ex, and they just shrugged.

“Yeah, very weird,” Five agreed. “Like, perfect timing kind of weird,” she muttered. Four nodded along, remembering how he had been recruited.

* * *

It was a job in Kiev, and instead of his usual crew, Billy found himself saddled with a jumpy twig of a boy and a couple of others who he had only worked with once or twice. He had been uncertain about the job, since it was such a high profile heist, he would have preferred to be working with people he knew, people he trusted.

He had filled his backpack with some moderately pricey pieces of jewelry, but he and everyone else on the heist were tearing the apartment apart, looking for their prize.

“ _ Politsiya! _ (Police!)” the jumpy boy on watch shouted, and Billy only heard him faintly from the bedroom he was in at the back of the apartment.

“Cheap, fake…” he threw two boxes of jewelry that had been on the bureau onto the bed, being able to tell with just a glance that none of the gems on them were real. “Fuck!” he shouted in frustration, storming back through the apartment, hoping to find something he had missed. “We ain’t leaving til we find the Kalahari!” he shouted as the jumpy boy they had on watch shouted back in Ukrainian. He was pacing around, looking out the window then rushing back to the door to look through the peephole.

“ _ Politsiya! _ (Police!)” he shouted. Billy looked around, tearing open a drawer he had already checked in desperation. He eyes the jewelry box as he shoved the necklace laying there in his mouth, holding it between his teeth, and he remembered the tricks he’d use when he didn’t have 6 other people searching the same apartment. He knocked on the blue velvet bottom, eyes widening hopefully.  _ A false bottom _ . 

He turned it over, tearing aside the silk lining, and his eyes widened when he laid his eyes on the gorgeous diamond necklace lying there. The jewelry fell from his mouth as his jaw dropped in awe before he quickly regained his senses, looking over his shoulder at the others.

“Let’s go!” he shouted, and just in time as he heard two gunshots go off. He led the group out the windows, climbing down to the roof of another building and running as fast as they could. At some point two guys got in front of him, and they all jumped down to a ledge before coming to a blue sign that hung out over the street. It crossed all the way over, and Billy smiled, they were almost out.

He grabbed onto a pipe as the others began climbing the sign, but before he could get a foothold the pipe loosened, and Billy yelled out as he swung out from the building.

“Shit!” he cried as he swung back, reaching out his hand as he saw one of the girls he had worked with before holding out hers. He didn’t have enough momentum, grabbing onto the stone of the building frantically as he felt himself begin to swing back, and the girl grabbed the necklace. Billy clenched his jaw, ignoring the pain in his gums as the diamonds pulled on his teeth. “Woah, woah!” he grit out as the girl tried climbing back up, his teeth protesting at it. “Grab my hand! Grab my hand!” he cried desperately as the pipe he was holding broke from his grip and the overhang as well. He swung his arm to the stone he was holding, gripping it for dear life. He grunted as he tried pulling himself up, but he couldn’t get a grip, and the girl tugged one final time, causing him to scream as it broke from his mouth and Four felt himself in freefall.

_ She hadn’t been trying to help him. _ He realized as he fell.  _ She just wanted the bloody necklace _ . Not that he blamed her, in their line of work.

Searing pain burst from Billy’s back as he went through a series of sheets hanging over a construction zone, and he let out a groan as he hit the stone ground, rolling onto his side and crunching up into a ball in pain as his vision faded to black.

* * *

Billy woke up to searing pain, and blackness. He couldn’t see a thing, and when he tried to move, he found his wrists and body were strapped down to some table.

The bag was removed from his head, and Billy blinked as light flooded his vision, trying to make out where he was. His hair clung to his forehead as he looked around, seeing some elaborate set up, all connected to an old looking rifle that he was sure would fire if he moved wrong. He whipped his head around, trying to see whoever tied 

“What do you want?” he called out, not waiting for a reply. “What do you fucking want?”

“Hey! Hey!” Billy felt a wave of dizziness as he shot his head back to look at the dirty blonde man coming around his side. He must be concussed. “Calm down,” the man pointed at him, continuing to circle, and Billy set his jaw, staring the man in the eyes.

“What are you?” he spat. “A fucking pig?” he spat on the floor, and the man said nothing, continuing to observe him. Billy felt his left eye twitching, beginning to swell shut, and he turned his head to continue glaring at the man.

“Are you afraid?” the man finally asked, and Billy straightened as much as he could, trying to stop panting.

“Never,” he responded, and the man nodded. He bit his lip, looking between Billy and his contraption, before resting a foot on one of the desk chairs he had used to hold a sack of flour. 

“There’s power in that,” he acknowledged. “More power in finding a cause,” he continued, and Billy’s brows furrowed. What the fuck was he on about? The man looked up, meeting Billy’s gaze again. “Something so important that you’re afraid to lose it, afraid you’re gonna die some other way. For nothing,” he looked around before looking back at Billy, a brow raising pointedly though in his concussed and confused state he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. The man rocked his foot a bit more, and Billy’s eyes darted to the office chair which had begun to shake. “Instead of what you’re fighting for,”

“You’re making a mistake to do this!” Billy called frantically, trying to implore this strange man not to kill him. “I-I’m a thief! I been robbing my f-I can make you money!” he tried to plead for his life, but the man seemed not to care.  
“Are you… afraid?” he repeated, his tone lower, and Billy ignored him.

“I’ve got skills!” he kept rambling, hoping something he would say could save him. “I can be useful, I can help you!”

“You’re gonna die now,” the man ignored his pleas.

“I can help you!” Billy screamed, trying to blink back the tears he felt welling in his eyes as he realized that this was how he went, for something he didn’t even understand. “I can fucking help you!”

“You’re gonna fuckin die now,” the man repeated, and Billy steeled himself.

“You know if you’re gonna do it, fucking do it,” he nodded at the man’s foot, daring him. “Fucking do it!”

“You die now!” the man shouted.

“Fucking do it!” Billy shouted back, and the man finally kicked over the office chair. Billy whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as a series of thumps followed. His brows furrowed when nothing else happened, and he opened his eyes when the man started laughing, and he saw everything had knocked over, including the rifle, which had never even fired. The man was bent over in half, laughing.

“One!” he heard, and both men’s heads snapped to look at the doorway, seeing a short, curvy female standing there with some iced teas in their hands. “What the fuck?!” the screamed at him, running to Billy and beginning to undo the straps. “How did you even set this up?” they muttered as they helped Billy off the table, and his chest heaved as he looked between the pair.

“You sick fuck!” he shouted at the man, leaning on the much shorter figure of the man’s accomplice for support as he felt his legs wobble. “Who fucking does that?” he accused, and the man shrugged.

“That was uncalled for,” the person under Billy’s arm spoke, helping Billy over to a chair near the wall before walking back over to the man and slapping him on the back of the head. “He just fell fucking twelve stories! As if that wasn’t enough you’re trying to give him a fucking heart attack? We want him alive you dumb fucking bastard!” they screamed at the much taller man, and if Billy wasn’t still recovering from the shock of everything, he probably would have laughed at how scared the older, taller man looked at this tiny person cussing him out.

“Hey!” he whined, his voice high pitched as the person proceeded to just hit all over his shoulders and arms. “I was gonna tell him the scoop after!”

“After what? After he went into cardiac arrest?” the person shot back, leaving a final, especially powerful, punch to the man’s shoulder before walking back to Billy. “I’m really sorry about him,” they muttered, reaching into their bag and pulling out some medical supplies as they dragged a chair over. Sitting down, the began to clean Billy’s wounds, and he flinched as their hand approached his face. “It’s alright,” they cooed, gently dabbing at his face, and Billy did his best to relax as they tended to him. “I’m Ex, by the way, use they/them pronouns,” they introduced. “That’s One,” they gestured to the now pouting man who they had left in the center of the room. Billy nodded as they moved onto his chest, a nasty gash going down across his collar bone and pec. “We came here to recruit you for something we’ve been planning, and we saw you fall,” they continued to explain. “Since we were going to need you to fake your death anyway, we figured that this was kind of perfect,” Billy winced as they touched a particularly tender part of his wound. “Well, except for you getting hurt, of course,” they winced at themselves, shooting him an apologetic look, but Billy shook his head.

“So what’ve you been planning?” he asked after a couple of moments of silence, in which Ex tended to his visible wounds. One smirked, approaching them again.

* * *

Billy followed Ex and One onto the plane, having agreed to follow them in their crazy plan, and join them on their base deep in California’s desert.

One went up to the cockpit to pilot, and Ex sat next to Billy, pulling out some fresh bandages. They had waited a day to fly, and Ex said they would change his bandages on the plane.

“Could you… um,” they muttered as the plane took off, and Billy looked over at them with a raised brow. “Take off your shirt?” Ex asked meekly, holding up the bandages as explanation, and Billy shrugged before gently taking off his shirt, mindful of the soreness all over his back and ribs. “Thanks,” Ex murmured, beginning to unwrap the bandages that were there, seeing some spots along his ribs tinted with red. They had reopened at some point during the night. They hummed, standing and pointing at him. “Wait here a minute,” they told him, walking back to the cabin’s bathroom, and Billy snickered.

“Not like I have anywhere else to go,” he called after them, and relished in the pink that appeared on their cheeks. He had found the day before that it was embarrassingly easy to make them blush, and he made sure to take advantage of that at every opportunity. 

Ex returned with a wet washcloth and began dabbing where his wounds had reopened, cleaning them again.

“Sorry,” they murmured as he winced, but Billy shook his head.

“It’s alright,” he told them, meeting their eyes, and they blushes and averted their gaze. “So um…” he tried to think of something to fill the silence. “What number am I, again?” he knew he was Four, he just wanted to hear them speak some more.

“You’re Four,” they informed him with an almost fond sigh at his ‘forgetting’. “Three was a hitman, Two was a CIA spook, and One,” they both glanced at the cockpit before looking back at each other. “Is our investor, I suppose,”.

“Resident arsehole,” Four added, and Ex giggled, Four smiling at the sound.

“He’ll grow on you, I’m certain of it,” they assured him, and Four shrugged.

“Whatever you say,”

* * *

“Ooh,” Seven shook his head as he looked around. “I never thought I’d meet a family more screwed up than mine,” Three cut him off before he could continue.

“Hey, no!” he called, pointing at Seven in warning. “Don’t say that, he hates the word ‘family’, I don’t know,” he shrugged as they all looked up to see One had gotten even further from them. “I think he never had one,” Four saw Ex flinch, and he subtly reached his hand out, giving theirs a soft squeeze. They startled, looking up at him, and he gave he a concerned look, as if to ask  _ are you alright? _ Ex shook their head with a soft smile, and Four nodded, dropping it for now, though he could tell that something big was bugging them.

“And if you’re ever left behind on a mission,” Five paused for dramatic effect. “He’s not coming back for you,” Seven laughed in disbelief.

“What?” he shook his head. “Deltas don’t operate like that. Things are gonna have to change, I promise you that,”


	13. XIII: High As A Kite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ex gets sent to subspace in a non sexual situation, and this has actually happened to me. Not in the same situation, but I've been spaced the same way, lol

Seven had some piloting experience, so when we departed for Hong Kong he sat in the cockpit with One. I was happy to pass copilotting duties on to him, since sitting up in the cockpit with One for hours at a time was not my idea of fun. I loved my brother, but not in confined spaces with nothing to do. As the two walked up to the front of the plane I nudged One subtly in the side, raising my eyebrows suggestively at him when he looked over at me in question, but he just waved me off and rolled his eyes.

“Have fun with your quality time!” I called to Seven, and he shot me a playful glare.

“Fuck you,” he responded, and he rose his middle finger at me for good measure. I held my hand to my heart, pretending to be offended.

“I thought we had something,” I teased, pretending to cry. Seven rolled his eyes and closed the door to the cockpit, and Four threw an arm around my shoulder to lead me to the cabin.

“Alright, enough of that, yeah?” he bumped his hip to my side, and I rolled my eyes with a smile and straightened, allowing him to lead me to the back of the plane. Four sat down across from where Five had set herself up, and we exchanged smiles as I sat down next to her. Three and Two were across the aisle from us, Two already hunkered down with a book. The engines started up, and Four pulled out a sweater, stuffing it between his head and the window. Soon enough we heard light snores and Five and I exchanged astonished looks as we took off. He had already fallen asleep.

“That’s so not fair,” I murmured to her.

“Sí, ¿verdad? _ (I know, right?) _ ” she muttered back, both of us staring at Four as he snored away, oblivious to our jealousy. 

“Jerk,” I spat under my breath, shifting in my seat to try and get comfortable before I gave up, lowering myself to the floor and laying my head on Five’s thigh. “I’m using this as a pillow,” I informed her, and she chuckled slightly, nodding in acceptance as one of her hands came to rest on my head. At some point she started stroking my hair, and I hummed, feeling like I was floating as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

* * *

“ _ Hey team, we’re below radar so uh… buckle up cause it’s about to get bumpy _ ,” Seven’s voice crackled through the speakers, and my eyes opened to slits at the sound. Five’s hand was still almost absentmindedly massaging my scalp and running through my hair, and I could hear Three muttering something under his breath. Four was still asleep, the bastard.

“You know, I usually look at the stewardess to see if I should be scared,” Three spoke a little louder so we could all hear him, and I giggled a bit. Five glanced down at me, her nails digging into my scalp pleasantly as she continued to stroke my hair, and I grinned up at her, feeling high off of the affection.

“Flight attendant,” Two corrected. “You can look at me,” she added, and I heard Three scoff.

“Oh, darling, you could be on  _ fire _ , and you would have the same creepy blank expression on your face,” he told her. “N-n-no offense,” he stuttered as an afterthought, and Five snorted. I could almost  _ feel _ Two roll her eyes. Three rose his voice again. “You know guys, what sucks?” he called, and Five scoffed with a bit of a smirk on her face. I blinked blearily up at her in question, and she jutted her chin towards Four, prompting me to look at him. He had one eye cracked open, pretending to still be asleep during Three’s nervous rambling. I shot him an amused smile. “If we were to crash, no one would ever know, or care,” Three was saying. “We would have no impact on anything-like we never existed!” A soft  _ ping _ came from the intercom, and we heard One’s voice come through the speakers.

“ _ Um… I can hear you, and if you’re gonna shit your pants, there’s a bathroom in the back _ ,” the  _ ping _ sounded again, and I looked between Five and Four before snorting with laughter.

“¿De qué te ríes? _ (What’re you laughing at?) _ ” Three shot at me defensively, and I shrugged one of my shoulders, snuggling back into Five’s thigh.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I slurred with some effort, grinning dopily as my eyes slipped closed once more in bliss.

* * *

I woke up a little later to Five gently trying to stand and shift my head off of her lap. At this point, I was so deep into subspace that I wasn’t really verbal, so I just whimpered in protest at the loss of contact.

“Lo siento, _ (Sorry) _ ” she muttered, cradling my head tenderly as she stood and looked around. “Four,” she whispered after a moment, and in my periphery I noticed him perk up, looking between Five and me in confusion. “C’mere,” she commanded, and he stood without question, quickly taking Five’s seat at her motion prompting him to do so, and she carefully lowered my head back down so it was now resting in Four’s lap. “They spaced,” she told him, still whispering, and his eyes widened. “You know what that means, right?” she asked, and Four furrowed his brows, glancing down at me before looking at Five again and nodding.

I could understand his confusion. Subspace was usually something that occurred during intense scenes, but I was so touch starved after my 4 years of isolation and subsequent 2 years of barely any normal human interaction that Five’s affectionate head scritches had sent me flying. Five and I often sought each other out when we were craving some snuggling, so spacing me wasn’t really anything new on Five’s part. A lot of people didn’t get platonic snuggles, but Five was aromantic and asexual, so she understood platonic snuggles and was happy that I did as well.

Five walked off in the direction of the bathroom, and I ‘hmphed’, settling into Four’s lap. I noticed he was warmer than Five, probably due to having more muscle mass, and I snuggled further into his thigh.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in satisfaction, and Four glanced down at me with an affectionate smile.

“Do you want me to stroke your hair?” he whispered, and my eyes opened wider, looking up at him in pleasant shock at the question. His smile disappeared, interpreting my shock as something much less than pleasant, and a worried look overtook his features. “I just-Five was doing that earlier-do you…?” he stammered out an explanation, and I grinned, nodding excitedly as I tried to convey without words how much I would love him to stroke my hair. I opened my mouth to try to say something, but no sound came out, and I ended up just making a frustrated noise. 

“Can’t talk?” he asked, and I nodded once more. “Okay,” he whispered, and smiled softly down at me as he slowly raised his hand to my hair, beginning to stroke through it with his fingers, which were much longer than Five’s. The calluses felt nice on my scalp, and I hummed in pleasure, feeling practically boneless.

* * *

Four gently shook me awake when we began our descent, and I blinked up at him, trying to get the sleep out of my eyes.

“Huh?” I muttered, still out of it from earlier, and Four smiled apologetically at me.

“Sorry,” he murmured, hand running through my hair a couple times. “We’re landing in Hong Kong,” he said as an explanation, and I nodded, sitting up a bit, but I still sat on the floor and leaned against Four’s legs. His hand slid down, but he still played with the hair at the nape of my neck, and I smiled widely at him at the feeling.

Our landing was surprisingly smooth, or maybe I just didn’t notice the roughness since I was still coming down from my trip to space. I was dopily fumbling for my duffle when One and Seven emerged from the cockpit.

“Ex?” One asked, and I blinked up at him with a smile.

“Yes?” I responded, and he narrowed his eyes at me, trying to figure out why I was so loopy. His eyes darted between me and Four, who I was still using as a pillow.

“What happened to them?” he asked Four eventually, and Four shrugged.

“They spaced,” One seemed to choke on air.

“ _ Spaced _ ?!” he shouted in response. “You fucking spaced them?” Four’s hands shot up in the universal ‘I surrender’ position at One’s tone.

“Hey! It was Five!” he said, and we all looked over at the woman, who nodded. “I was just being responsible and making sure they didn’t drop!” Four defended himself, and Five nodded.

“I asked him to take over,” she said, and One spent a moment just looking between the three of us.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, and I whined.

“Stop being such a party pooper,” I mumbled at him, sending him the best glare I could, feeling much more coherent after hearing him shouting at Four. “I fucking missed snuggles,” One rolled his eyes, shooting me a look, and I narrowed mine right back.

“Whatever,” he muttered eventually, beginning to storm down the ramp. “Next time, just tell me it’s weed or something!” he called over his shoulder, and I rolled my eyes, finally sitting up completely. I understood why he wouldn’t want to hear about me being subspaced, since it was usually a sexual thing and nobody wanted to think of their little sibling in any sexual situation. Five held out her hands to help me up and I grabbed them, fingers fumbling for a moment before I was actually able to grip her hands solidly. With a tug I was finally on my feet, still blinking sleepily. I grabbed my duffle and turned to Four.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, my cheeks heating now that I was no longer in subspace, and he smiled softly at me, in the same way he did when he asked to stroke my hair. My heart skipped a beat.

“No problem,” he responded, standing and stretching out his legs. We began walking down the ramp, and Three sidled up next to Four when we all reached the bottom.

“Drop?” Three asked, trying to keep his voice low, and I giggled. He probably didn’t understand any of that conversation if he was asking that. Four chuckled, clapping Three on the back.

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” he laughed, shaking his head, and I saw Three scowl out of the corner of my eye.

“Google is your friend,” I called over my shoulder to him, and he just rolled his eyes at me. I sent him an innocent smile back.


	14. XIV: Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Five join our group of ghosts?

Amelia wasn’t overconfident in her abilities, she was just a damn good doctor. She wanted to make a difference, so when given the choice of where to work in the hospital, she chose to be an ER surgeon. She saved plenty of lives, and had one of the best success rates in the state when it came to patients lost. So why, when she was asked if she wanted to stop working in the ER and do expensive, mostly cosmetic surgeries?

She needed the money. 

Her parents could no longer work, her father having had a tragic accident that left him paralyzed, and her mother’s failing health made it hard for her to keep a job. Amelia had three younger siblings, and she was set on getting them through college. 

Performing the cosmetic surgeries for rich trophy wives and aging athletes in denial may not have been as gratifying as saving lives in the ER, but it allowed her to pay the tuition of her two younger siblings who were attending college, and set aside a fund for her youngest brother who would graduate high school next year.

* * *

“Amelia, I have a patient who could really use-”

“I can’t, Jen,” Amelia sighed. “My next patient is here early, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she tried to brush past Jen, who had been in her year in school. Jen had taken her position when she left the ER.

“But Amelia, he’s dying,” Jen tried to argue, but the door swung open before Amelia could even open her mouth to respond. Amelia stood, seeing the aforementioned patient. She was a woman who had wanted to be an actress, had starred in a pilot, and then was cast aside, never to be hired as an actress again. She snagged herself a rich husband, and now as she aged, she still held onto the hope that she could get cast in the next big production. That was why she was coming to Amelia, for a face lift.

“Amelia, dear,” she refused to use her title, which always made the doctor force back a scowl. “I was told you were in your office, shall we get started,” Amelia glanced at Jen with a look that she hoped conveyed how sorry she was before walking towards her patient.

“Of course,” she smiled fakely, leading the woman away as Jen was left in her office, gaping.

* * *

“A face lift?” Jen shouted at Amelia accusingly later that evening. She looked like she had come straight from surgery, her hands tinted red and sweat coating her face.

“What?” Amelia murmured in response, beyond exhausted and ready to go home for the day.

“You couldn’t have rescheduled? Or asked her to wait while you saved a dying man’s life?” Jen ranted, standing and pacing Amelia’s office agitatedly.

“I couldn’t have done that!” Amelia tried to defend herself, voice cracking a bit. “You know how these rich patients are-”

“No, actually, I don’t!” Jen cut her off. “I work in the ER where I’m not really paying attention to how much money the patient is going to pay me, I’m worried about saving their goddamn lives, and I’ll get paid later!” Jen’s chest heaved, she was furious. “That man died!” she shouted. “He died because you were the only doctor in this hospital who has ever performed that surgery successfully! And I couldn’t do it! But I still tried! And  _ I _ had to tell his family he didn’t make it! While  _ you _ were up here making someone more pretty!” Amelia flinched when she noticed the tears streaming down Jen’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, but Jen shook her head, storming out of the office.

“Nevermind,” she choked out, and Amelia sighed as the door slammed shut behind her. 

* * *

“That seemed rough,” Amelia screamed at the sound of a man’s voice when she closed the door to her apartment behind her. She whipped around, seeing two figures standing in the middle of her living room. One appeared to be 6 ft, she was guessing they were the person who spoke, while the other person seemed comically small next to him, standing a little over 5 ft.

“Who the fuck are you?” she gasped out, her chest heaving as she stared at them.

“I-”

“It doesn’t matter,” the taller one cut his short accomplice off. “What matters, is that you still want to save lives,” Amelia tilted her head in confusion. “And where you are right now, you’re not saving any lives,” he continued, and Amelia’s brows furrowed indignantly as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Or do you not care anymore?” he goaded, and Amelia’s face twisted in fury.

“I care!” she shouted at him. “But I also care about my three younger siblings who I need to put through college! And ER surgeons don’t make enough money!” she swung open the door to her apartment once more, gesturing to the hallway. “Now get out of my apartment!”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about the money for what we’re proposing,” the shorter one spoke up finally. “Your siblings would receive enough money in your will to go to any college they could ever choose,” they explained.

“Will?” Amelia asked, voice laced with confusion.

“You’d need to die,” the man spoke up once more.

“Nice bedside manner,” the shorter one murmured, but the man scoffed.

“She’s the doctor,”

“Shut up!” Amelia growled. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, and the shorter one stepped forward enough for Amelia to be able to see their face.

“First off, I’m Ex, they/them,” they introduced themself. “This is One,”

“One?” Amelia asked.

“Our team goes by numbers for everybody’s safety,” they told her. “We’re putting together a team of ghosts to take down some really evil people,” they continued. “The first on our list is the dictator of Turgistan, I’m assuming you’ve heard something about it on the news?” Amelia nodded. “I call us ghosts because we’ve all ‘died’,” they put up air quotes around the word  _ died _ . “Faking our deaths one way or another, so there’s no way to track us, no paper trail, no social media, nothing,” Amelia’s brows furrowed.

“Why me, though?” she asked.

“We need someone with more medical knowledge than ‘I can sort of do stitches’,” Ex giggled at that, doing more air quotes with their hands. “You’d receive combat training, since you’d be going out into the field with us,” Amelia nodded.

“Can I have time to think about it?” she asked, and the pair nodded, going towards the door.

“We’ll be back after your next shift,” One declared.

“Is that enough time to decide?” Ex asked, and Amelia nodded once more.

“I think so,”

* * *

Sure enough, two days later after Amelia came home from the hospital once more, the two ominous figures were standing in her living room again. She turned on the light and walked over to them, plopping herself down on the couch with a sigh as she moved to take off her shoes.

“How much money would they get?” she asked almost immediately, and Ex and One both sat in the arm chairs next to her couch.

“2 and a half million dollars,” One answered. “Plus your already existing assets,” he shrugged, and Amelia’s eyes widened.

“Million?” Amelia gasped, shooting from her seat. “They can literally go wherever, do whatever!” she smiled brightly. “Let’s do this!” Ex grinned at her enthusiasm.

“Glad you’re on board,” they said, leaning forward. “So here’s how you’re going to die-”

* * *

Amelia left the hospital after her shift, grinning at the receptionist as usual and heading to her car. The glass lens of a security camera glinted as she exited the elevator, and she glanced at it before continuing to walk to her car.

“Your wallet! Now!” All of a sudden a tall figure with a gun rushed from where they had been hiding next to a vending machine. Amelia froze, and the figure shook the gun at her. “Your wallet!” they shouted again, and Amelia nodded.

“Okay! Okay!” she squeaked, reaching into her pocket for her pepper spray. The man didn’t even let her pull it out fully before shooting her three in the chest.

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! _

Red blossomed on Amelia’s pink shirt, splattering onto the concrete of the garage, and she slumped, collapsing to the floor.

“Shit!” The man muttered, running to a van nearby and hopping into the back seat. “Let’s go!” he shouted at the driver, and the already running van rushed to the elevator, coming to a stop just long enough for the man to grab Amelia’s body and drag her in before they drove off.

All of this was caught on the lone security camera in front of the elevator.

* * *

“It’s okay to sit up now,” Ex called back, and Amelia sighed in relief, sitting up and tearing off her shirt, revealing the blood bags strapped to a bullet proof vest.

“It worked!” she laughed a bit with the adrenaline, and One scoffed, ripping the hood of his sweater off his head.

“Of course it worked,” he smirked. “It was my idea,”.


	15. XV: Welcome to Hong Kong

We had arrived in Hong Kong a couple of hours earlier, and we were all getting some food from a random street vendor. Five and I were smirking to each other as we watched Two and Three. They were not being subtle at all about their affection, and they shared a fond smile as Three passed Two a treat.

Seven approached the table with a beer and a paper tray of food in hand, and swung his leg over the bench to sit next to Three.

“So,” his voice took on a higher pitch, and we all glanced over at him. “How long’s this been going on?” he pointed between Two and Three, the latter of which had the most dopey lovestruck smile on his face.

“What?” Three asked as he leaned away from Two a bit, not at all doing a good job of deflecting. Five tilted her head, pretending to be pensive.

“You know I’ve been wondering the same thing,” she piped up. “Florence?” Two kept her gaze away from us as we all leaned forward, urging them to spill the beans. Three’s face fell as Seven leaned forward to peer at him.

“Nah, Vegas,” he corrected, and Five nodded with a grin.

“Vegasssss,” she agreed, and I giggled.

“Oh yeah, Vegas,” I spoke up, and Three sighed and rolled his eyes.

“So you guys know about us?” he asked, his tone defeated, and Five leaned away while Seven started to laugh. The grin fell from Five’s face, disappointed at how easily he gave the information up.

“Well we do now, dumbass,” she scolded him, and Two threw her spoon down into her bowl, giving him a look that could quite possibly kill a lesser man.

“Well, I guess it’s not against the rules, right?” she asked, looking to me, and I shrugged.

“Depends,” we all jumped at One’s voice, turning and seeing him leaning against a pole with a bowl of noodles in one hand and chopsticks in the other. “So, are you guys fucking or-or making love?” the way he said the word  _ love _ sounded like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“What’s the difference?” Three asked, and Two just turned to face One.

“We’re fucking,” she told him, and One nodded. I wasn’t sure if I believed her, but I wasn’t the one who had an issue with it. Three looked over at her, not masking the hurt in his face, and I subtly tapped his thigh under the table. He turned to look at me, and I just gave him a small smile.

“Gotta play to the audience,” I muttered so One couldn’t hear, and Three smirked at me.

“ _ Entiendo _ ,(I see)” he muttered back, and we both exchanged a smile before One piped up again.

“Hey! Who’s this honey badger?” he pointed to a slightly chunky man who had sat down next to Seven. He was wearing a Britney spears shirt and had thick spectacles on. He smiled nervously at One when he addressed him.

“I-I’m Raymond,” he stuttered, and One’s face shifted into a condescending smile.

“Hi Raymond, you new to the team?” he asked, and Raymond shifted uncomfortably.

“Just… just hanging out,” he said, and Five piped up.

“It’s Britney, bitch,” she said, and I smirked a bit as Raymond looked even more uncomfortable, the smile fading from his face.

“So we should probably go discuss our sensitive geopolitical issues when we’re you know, Raymond free,” One said, looking at all of us with a disappointed glare. “Great security though, really great,” he said as Two got up to throw out her bowl. “Especially you,” he smirked, and I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t be a dick,” I said as I stood, discarding my own bowl, and One smiled at me.

“But without that I’m nothing,” he countered, and I scoffed.

“Without that, you’re still rich,” I said, and he blinked in surprise before nodding. I had him there.

“Touché,” he murmured, returning to his noodles, and I clapped him on the shoulder as I passed, deciding I should go make sure all our equipment was ready.

* * *

Later that night, we all gathered in a hotel room we had made into a makeshift base.

“Hong Kong, penthouse extraction,” One said as an introduction. On the table in front of him lay the blueprint for Ni Hai tower. “We’re gonna break out Rovach’s baby brother from his 90th floor prison. It’s a simple snatch-and-grab, minus-”

“The word simple because it’s not,” I piped up, knowing exactly where he was going with that sentence. One glared at me before carrying on. 

“And minus the word snatch-”

“Snatch?” Two asked, her face pinched in confusion at the sound of the word.

“Snatch,” One nodded.

“Snatch,” Two repeated, her voice going up in pitch.

“Snatch,” One’s eyes narrowed.

“Snatch what?” Two asked, and One rolled his eyes, his voice raising ever so slightly.

“Minus the words snatch and grab because they mean the same thing!”

“Snatch?” Two repeated one more time, though this time I was pretty sure it was to get further on One’s nerves. I smirked slightly.

“Snatch, stop saying that!” One demanded, and I giggled. One gestured for Seven to take over.

“Yeah, nothing’s that simple,” One rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. “The next building over, we use the sky cranes. One as a sniper’s nest for yours truly, and one as a crossover, building to building,” at that he looked to Four, who nodded. He was probably the only one who would climb on the crane to get to the penthouse, the rest of us would be going in through the front door or waiting by the zipline. One and I would be positioned there, him with the walkie and his tech shit as he coordinated, and me with my handy sniper rifle, just in case everything went to shit and we needed more back up.

“We’ll have fifteen minutes before HK police arrive,” One warned us all.

* * *

The next evening, the plan was put into motion. One and I were at the construction site, with One holding a gun at the man in charge, and me holding his cell phone up to his mouth.

“Crane lose control! Very dangerous!” he said in broken English. “Stay off the roof!”

“What do you mean, leave the roof?” Daqeeq, Murat’s head bodyguard, challenged. “Because I will fuck you up,” One and I were both surprised when the foreman of the construction site went off at him.

“You not fuck me up!” he shouted, before going into a rant in some form of Chinese. I couldn’t recognize any word he said until he switched back to English.

“What?” we heard Daqeeq’s confused voice.

“You don’t talk to me like this! Smash you like a bitch!” One’s eyes widened as he snapped out of his state of shock, pulling the phone away slightly.

“No! No, no, no,” he muttered, and the man looked nervously at him.

“No?” his eyes were wide with fear, and he turned back to the phone. “Bye!” he said cheerily, and I quickly pulled the phone away and hung up. I sucked in a deep breath before turning to the man.

“This site needs to be empty for the next day or so,” I told him, and he opened his mouth to protest, but I dropped a duffle bag at his feet. “You can take all of it, or you can split it up between the crew, but we need this place to be cleared,” I said as he looked down and saw the thousands if not millions of hundred Hong Kong dollar bills. He looked up at me, his eyes wide as his hands sifted through the money.

“Okay,” he agreed, and we nodded, motioning for him to get to work clearing the site. 

At around the same time as One and I paid a visit to the construction site, Five was entering the building from the ground floor. She was wearing a bright yellow dress with her hair elaborately done up with pins, so no one would question her presence there while she waited for the action to begin. 

* * *

When night fell, One, Four, Seven, and I were all at the construction site. Seven was putting together his rifle, adjusting things so they worked for him, and Four was chalking his hands up. I would be waiting until he started to make his way over to prepare my own sniper rifle. Four was kneeling, with One standing above him and me squatting next to One, sorting through the supplies to make sure everything was good in some last minute checks.

“You afraid?” he asked Four, who shook his head, not even looking up.

“Nope,” he denied, and One nodded minutely.

“Good luck,” he bade him and Four shook his head with a groan.

“Saying good luck is bad luck,” he admonished, and One rolled his eyes.

“I take it back,”

“Taking it back is even worse luck!” Four glared at him, but One rolled his eyes, jabbing his thumb behind him.

“Go, go go, go, go!” he urged and Four rolled his eyes right back.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, his hand brushing my shoulder briefly, and my own hand rose to grab his own. I gave it a quick squeeze before letting go, and he smirked slightly before beginning to climb the crane. 

“Good luck,” One said once more, and Four’s sigh could be heard.

“You want me to die,” he said, and I could see his head shaking. “Wanker,” I huffed out a snort of laughter at that.

As Four began his ascent, I took the pieces of my sniper rifle out of my bag, beginning to assemble it. One nudged me with his foot.

“What?” I asked, screwing the silencer onto the barrel of the rifle.

“I saw that,” he mumbled, and I shook my head.

“Saw what?” I mumbled back nonchalantly.

“That,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

“At least I didn’t say good luck,” I countered, and he rolled his eyes.

“So, that’s a thing for theater people and thieves? Great! What was I supposed to say? Break a leg? Not great in his profession,” he shot back, and I sniggered to myself.

“You could have said nothing,” I shrugged, and he just groaned.

“Just put your gun together,” he muttered, and I giggled, having won our ‘argument’ if you could even call it that.

A couple of minutes later, we heard an engine revving, and Five’s voice came through our earpieces.

“It’s time,” she said, and I hunkered down in my ‘nest’, looking through the sight at Murat’s penthouse/prison. “Ferrari’s landed,” she said, and One pulled his phone out to begin moving the cranes.

“Yeah, it’s a good ride, One,” Seven’s voice came through my earpiece, and I smirked. “A little scary up here, but-” Four cut him off.

“Nah, this is fun,” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Don’t be a pussy, Seven,” I sniggered.

“Yeah, I got the gun, smartass,” Seven shot back, and I bit my lip to keep my laughter from spilling out. “Remember that,”

“So testy,” I muttered, and heard Four chuckle. I glanced up at the cranes, and saw the crane Four was on was getting close to being right over the pool.

“Slow it down, One. Slow it down,” his voice piped up, and One complied. Within a couple seconds, the crane was in position.

“Overwatch is set,” Seven announced, and I looked through my scope at the apartment. “I got the target in his bed, scratching his balls, reading some Chinese book,” Seven declared, and One looked down at me.

“Hit it, guys,” he ordered, and we heard the Ferrari’s engine rev again. I looked up at the crane through my scope and saw Four drop down next to the pool.

“Eagle has landed,” Seven announced, and I sniggered.

“Gotta love that one,” I said, and Seven chuckled in return. After a couple of seconds, we heard Five’s voice.

“Hello, boys,” I heard a metallic  _ ping _ in the background, which I assumed was her pulling the pin out of the canister. “You know, laughter is life… Just kidding, I stole that from my old dentist’s office,” I sniggered. “Along with a shit ton of nitrous,”

“Damn girl,” I muttered.

“Badges?” Three’s voice piped up in the background. “We don’t need no stinking badges,”

“One, laughing gas is working,” Two declared, and I smirked.

“Nice job, Five,” I praised, she had been the one to suggest it.

“Oh, shit!” she cursed, and my brows furrowed before I heard a  _ thunk _ . “We got a 911, cops were called,” her voice was breathy with panic.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered.

“Cops?” One asked, and I glanced up at him to see his face pinched in concern.

“We got 13 minutes,” Five said, and I groaned, looking back through my scope. I looked around, and saw Four looping the zipline around a cement pillar.

“Zip line secure,” he announced after he clipped it, and I looked over at One to see him tugging on our end.

“Ready, ready,” he confirmed.

“One?” Seven piped up. “There’s movement, man,” he said, and I quickly looked back through my scope, seeing a bunch of guys running around the apartment.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered once more.

“Where?” Four asked.

“Four bogeys, rooftop,” Seven responded, and I quickly adjusted so I was looking up there. I found Four, and saw him quickly crawling out of sight of the men who had gone up on the roof, before he slipped into the pool.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” I said, and One nudged me with his foot.

“No Star Wars, Ex,” he scolded, and I pouted.

“Two and Three, in the elevator,” Two announced. One pulled up his heat vision binoculars, and looked around.

“Alright you got targets, on your left, eye level,” he said, and Four slipped under water.

“Stay here,” One pointed at me, before running off somewhere to get a better view of the roof. I scowled, looking up and preparing my finger to pull the trigger.

“Under water, thirty seconds,” Seven announced. “He’s in some shit, man,” I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, seeing more people come up to the roof. “Freeze, Four,” he ordered, two men walking to right above where he was. “He’s above you,” Another moment of tense silence before-”Sixty seconds,” Seven’s voice had lost it’s calm, detached quality and now sounded much more worried. “One, he’s gonna drown! I got six guys up top, want me to drop ‘em?”

“No, mission’ll be compromised!” One sounded out of breath as he denied us, like he was running.

“Let me drop ‘em, One, this is what I do!” Seven argued, and I cringed when One didn’t even reply. “He’s been under 120,”

“How is he still conscious?” I muttered.

“He’s gonna drown,” Seven sounded increasingly worried, reflecting how I felt perfectly. “Four move right,” he suddenly ordered, and my brows furrowed. “Incoming round,” he announced, and a shot hit the glass edge of the pool. Four immediately moved to the crack that was formed and began sucking the air through it. “You’re welcome, and y’all can refer to me as Mr. Seven from now on,” I giggled at that, and Four held up a thumbs up.

“Ooh, hot mask,” I heard Three say. “In a Darth Vader daughter kind of way,” I sniggered.

“Stop it,” Two hissed back.

“Maybe later we can… coochie coochie…” He said suggestively, and I raised my eyebrows.

“A little over the top, guys?” One asked, and I nodded, despite knowing nobody could see me.

“I’m officially uncomfy,” I announced, and I heard Seven huff out a chuckle.

“Oh check this out!” Three’s excited voice sounded. “I went to the dentist!”

“Oh my god,” I heard Two say.

“What?” I asked.

“You lost one of the seals!” she said, and I cringed.

“Huh?” Three responded.

“You’re on laughing gas, you dumb motherfucker! Give me your gun!” Two demanded, and Three giggled.

“I’m not giving you my gun!”

“You’re a danger to yourself,”

“I am the danger!” Three’s voice sounded serious for a moment, and I rolled my eyes. I saw Four getting out of the pool and begin placing the speakers as all this was happening.

“No more movie lines!” One piped up, and I groaned.

“Awe, you’re no fun,” I whined, and One didn’t even dignify that with a response.

“Not just tonight, but ever,” he clarified, and I pouted.

“It’s a TV line, not a movie line,” Three countered, and I heard Two heave out a sigh.

“Just stay behind me,” she commanded.

“Yes, Miss Vader,” Three agreed, and I rolled my eyes once more as he began to do the Darth Vader breathing sound.

“You almost done there?” One asked, and I swore if he had my gun he would have found a way to shoot Three.

“Okay, we’ve got a problem,” Two admitted. “Three got hit with nitrous, and he’s stupider than usual,”

“That’s an achievement,” I piped up, and I heard Seven and Four chuckle.

“This is the funniest shit ever!” I could hear Three’s hysterical laughter.

“Four, how you doing over there?” One asked as I watched him dangling by one of the windows. “Having fun yet?”

“Anyone ever asked you dumb questions when you’re 90 stories up?” he shot back.

“No need to climb angry,” One defended.

“Mate, you’re really ruining my flow right now, you know that?” Four asked, and I giggled a bit.

“Just ignore him,” I piped up. “It’s what I always do,”

“Hey!” One’s offended voice came through my earpiece.

“Just get those high intensity speakers in place,” Seven ordered, impatient. “I got the targets all grouped in the kitchen,”

“Got it!” Four announced once the last speaker was in place.


End file.
